


The Insides of Emptiness

by SilentFrenzy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drastoria, F/F, F/M, multiple POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 63
Words: 312,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentFrenzy/pseuds/SilentFrenzy
Summary: In the harsh pure-blood society it is imperative that everyone play their cards carefully in order to end up on the top, but what does getting to the top entail? Is anything left of these witches and wizards once they've achieved their goals, and can they maintain them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, I just want to put a bit of a disclaimer before you begin reading. Most of the characters in this story are very morally flawed, and many of them have done unforgivable things. Most of the relationships described and depicted are incredibly unhealthy.
> 
> I do not mean to glamorize the pure-blood society I have created, so please do not take it that way. I am mostly trying to write a thought provoking tale where I add depth to seemingly one dimensional characters.  
> The story eventually branches out into multiple POVs and explores other characters. 
> 
> Also! I apologize for the typos/errors in this story (especially in my beginning chapters). I fully intend on going back and editing them when I have time/stop procrastinating. 
> 
> Happy reading! 
> 
> I don't own anything from Harry Potter.

The scratching and pulling of a quill on parchment was usually a sound Astoria got lost in. Moments that were quiet and still enough that the small sound of writing and concentration filled the room, relaxing her, grounding her. It was such a recognizable and comfortable sound. It reminded her of when her father was in his study when she was a child and he allowed her in to sit by the window as long as she swore she wouldn’t make a sound while he worked. The sound portrayed quiet, but not complete silence. 

Astoria tried to focus on the slow drags of the quill while her heart thudded in her ears and her nerves and emotions caught painfully in her throat. She tried to remind herself to look calm and prepared. She _was_ prepared.

She should be prepared.

She was having a hard time breathing properly as she was too conscious of the volume of her breathing and if the sound would give off how _not okay_ she was. 

As if Draco Malfoy was paying attention to the sound of her breathing. 

She focused her vision and forced herself to look at him. It took herself a couple of tries to actually look and focus on him and not through him. She wanted to read him. She wanted a bit of relief that she wasn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed with the finality of everything. She held her breath so it wouldn’t hitch with her tears when she found him to be completely calm. 

Unreadable.

No, maybe he wasn’t unreadable. Maybe there was just nothing to read. That was what was terrifying to her. This probably was just nothing to him. 

It should be nothing to her. 

Her eyes fell down to the table and she tried to distract herself with the details of it so she could breathe again and the tears creeping into her eyes would die down. She was so scared. So unbelievably scared. Why was she scared? She was raised knowing this happened. She was raised to be prepared. She was raised _wanting_ this. All of the women around her all went through the same. So why must she be so scared? 

Astoria waited while Draco filled out the paperwork for their arranged marriage. Growing up, she and her family expected a wedding; big and extravagant. The Malfoys of all families loved to put on a show. They weren’t those Malfoys anymore. So much had changed with the them, along with most of the upperclass pureblood families. So much that now there was no attempt to try and cloak this arrangement with a disguise of something lovely and lavish. 

This was purely a business arrangement. 

No wedding would have changed that, no, but she wondered if it would have helped this incredibly cold feeling that creeped through her and settled in her insides. Astoria closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She would be fine. She would be fine. She would be fine. 

_She would be fine._

The rest of the proceedings went in a numb blur. Astoria couldn’t allow herself to focus on anything. She wouldn’t let herself process anything. That would only make her fall apart in front of him. The magical ceremony was over, and they were married. Husband and wife just like that, no feeling. 

The carriage moved suffocatingly slow and she was feeling tortured. She needed to be alone for a few minutes to process this by herself so she didn’t make a scene in front of her new husband. It was her duty to be a good wife. Perfect and obedient. She couldn’t have an emotional fit only minutes after becoming his wife.

Draco didn’t speak. 

Astoria didn’t know if she was grateful for his lack of words or if it made it worse. Every moment more he proved how cold and quiet he was. He wasn’t bitter or angry. He was indifferent. Emotionless. The more he portrayed his indifferent demeanor, the more he confirmed that what she feared so much was unavoidable from this point on. 

Loneliness. 

Draco was nothing. A shell. Astoria loved people and company. She loved to listen. How could she listen to nothing? She bit into her tongue hard as they pulled into the manor. She used to remember the manor coming into view as a young girl and being in awe while her stomach fluttered. Parties so lavish and bright, tea in the garden with a dozen other overdressed women and their young girls, and dinners with more courses than anyone ever needed always awaited her at the manor. She had wanted it to be hers. She had hoped she’d be quiet and pretty enough for Narcissa to take a liking to her, to murmur to her husband of approvals of _her._ She had to somehow stand out amongst the other proper, practically carbon copies of herself in the pool of other pureblood daughters hoping to grow to be arranged to the young Malfoy so they could make their parents and their family name proud. 

It _was_ her. 

It was her who impressed Narcissa and Lucius. It was her who danced the most effortlessly at all of the dancing events. It was her who sat up just _so_ straight and who ate just _so_ properly. It was her who portrayed the best robotic, _fake_ manners that she practiced hours in the nights before. 

It was her who never had a hair out of line and never portrayed a shred of human personality.

But Astoria looked at the manor now that was _finally_ hers and it was just dark. A ghost of what it once was. Just like Draco: it was nothing. 

Empty. 

Astoria practically vomited during the short but torturous moments as Draco took his time moving around the carriage to open her door to let her out. She had to control her pace to not sprint ahead of him to the doors and instead walk next to him, slightly behind him. Just as she was always taught to do. Draco still didn’t speak to her. He didn’t care to. Astoria’s throat ached with an imprisoned sob and they walked up steps and down and around halls for what felt like hours. 

“This is your room.”

Astoria jumped at his smooth and certain voice cutting through the quiet air and she let out a sound in surprise which caused the sob she had been holding in to bubble over slightly and add to her first sound. It was too late to control and her tears slipped past her eyelashes. She smacked a hand over her mouth, so angry at herself for failing at the very last moment. How could she be so fragile and _unprepared_. She was raised to do this. How would he want to be around her if she was such a mess? If he wasn’t around her how would she survive? How would she not lose her mind? _He was the only person here in this big empty place._

Draco studied the girl as she started to shake while trying to subside her cries. This was the first moment he really looked at her. _Really_ looked at her. Even as children when he would come across her she was just another wealthy child being shoved in his parents faces to impress them. Astoria was nothing. A doll. Born to be a good wife to a wealthy man of status who didn’t give a shit about her. It was out of the ordinary for him to see her display raw emotion, especially now when they were older. Astoria always faded in the background. She was quiet and too perfect. Boring. Boring, but impossibly striking. She was beautiful in every sense of the word. She had large, icy blue eyes and milky white skin that was unflawed and bright aside from some light freckles dusted across her small, every so slightly upturned nose and naturally flushed cheeks. She wore little makeup besides her darkened lashes and her eyebrows were a light brown that were full and kept but not fabricated. Her mouth was full and her lips were a natural shade of pink. She had feather soft white blonde hair that at the moment was done up in a tight, perfect french twist. This hair did not suit her gentle and youthful, heart shaped face. His eyes moved down her small frame. She was quite tiny but somehow her legs still seemed very long. The cream colored dress she was wearing clung to her in an appealing but modest way and the lace detailing revealed the skin of her neck and arms and he noticed some light freckles pecked across her shoulders as well. Draco’s eyes flashed with cold humor. 

It was as if his mother had created her in a lab. 

Describing Astoria in simple words would sound as if she shared the same features with his family, but she couldn’t look more different. She had color to her cheeks, hope in her eyes, and brightness to her skin. She looked alive. He wondered if the colors in her would dull in time to match the grey of his world. To match him. 

He watched her struggle to contain herself without reacting. Her crying betrayed her perfect image, and he could tell how much that _killed_ her. She was ashamed, which he didn’t care. He didn’t care to comfort her nor did he care to be annoyed with her for being a blubbering mess instead of having a hold of herself which is what she was meant to be as his wife. 

What she _should_ be after coming out on top. 

She beat all of those other girls exactly like her, including her sister whose chance was gone as soon as she decided to fuck him at school years ago against the cupboards in an empty classroom like a common whore. Now, that’s definitely not what is considered proper wife material for a man of high status. Which is why he was married to Astoria who would never act in such a way. However, blubbering in front of your new husband is not proper wife material either, and proper wife material was what Astoria was _supposed_ to be. 

“Collect yourself.”

Astoria went forward into the room quickly, turning around at the same time to apologize to him as both sides of her instincts controlled her at once. Draco was already walking away and she closed her mouth to avoid shouting out at him in her apologies. One humiliating mistake was enough for now. She closed the door as quietly as she could as her vision blurred and she stumbled to the bed in the room, her room, grabbing at one of the many decorative pillows that lay cold to bury her face into it and sob quietly. 

This was her life now.


	2. Chapter 2

Astoria let herself cry for as long as she possibly could. She hoped that if she were to cry long enough she would run out of tears and not lose control again. While her cries finally began to subside, she found herself staring at her ring while sniffling and wiping her nose on her arm. 

Very unladylike. 

She studied the ring, rotating her hand so the diamonds would catch in the light. The ring had a very ageless look with a large, oval diamond in the middle with dozens of small diamonds surrounding it. The band was rose gold with intricate designs and most likely hours worth of detail and craftsmanship; a cursive “Malfoy” engraved into the bottom. It was a glorious piece of jewelry and she wondered what it would be like to receive it if she weren’t so used to expensive things. She thought of how a common woman might feel when presented with it. A common woman who had to work and struggle her whole life for everything she owned to have a ring like this on her finger. Astoria decided she wished she could know how that would feel. Though it was a gorgeous ring, she was almost numb to extravagant things by now. She wanted to appreciate it for the sake of the jewelry maker who put so much effort and soul into crafting it.

She sighed and sat up, rubbing at her eyes roughly and smearing her mascara across her skin. She was a mess. Her eyes wandered around the large room, “her room”, finding all of her things from her _actual_ room at her family’s home. She frowned and tried to reassure herself by thinking of how her mother had been given her own room as well but still slept with her father in their shared bedroom. However, her parents were lucky and their relationship was decent. A lot of pureblood wives lived in their own rooms only to encounter their husbands to produce offspring while their husbands traded out different whores in the master bedroom they were supposed to share every night. Astoria felt her face grow hot with anger and shame. She did not want disgusting, low life women to come into _her_ home and into _her_ bed and have sex with _her_ husband. 

Astoria placed a hand on her forehead, overwhelmed and surprised with her reaction to the thought. She had never really processed the idea of something like that happening to her marriage, and she never imagined how she would feel. It was very quite common, infidelity, but she never thought of it happening to her. 

Why would it not?

Draco didn’t care about her. He didn’t know anything about her and he didn’t care to. She can’t even remember him _looking_ at her until she cried in front of his face tonight. _Ever._

They may not have been in the same year at school, as she was a couple years younger than him, but she was _always around him_. She watched him as they were growing up at _every_ pureblood event; ate at all the same tables and danced with him at every dance. She shared the Common Room with him from when she attended Hogwarts starting his third year and sat near him at every meal in the Great Hall. She was nearly _always_ with him as they grew up.

Yet he never looked at her. 

He was aware of which girls were the top contenders for his hand, and he knew one of them was her. If he had no interest of even _looking_ at her growing up, fully aware she could possibly be his wife for the rest of his life, why would he be interested in having a relationship with her now? Why would he care for her enough to respect her title and not sleep with other women in the bed meant to be hers? Especially now, when he seemed so closed off and emotionless. Growing up he had a spirit about him, maybe a particularly nasty one but something was there. Astoria was doubtful that his changes in personality had affected his sex drive by much. He nearly slept with the entire female student body at Hogwarts. He had even slept with her sister. 

He had slept with her sister. 

He had intentionally taken her sister’s virginity in one of the most degrading ways. Daphne had let him, wanted him. This was when being cruel was a sport to him, and he and his friends would laugh and mock all of the girls of high status that they manipulated into ruining themselves and their futures for them. He had ruined her sister just to prove he could, and he did that to about half of the other girls that his parents decided were in line to marry him. He must have owled his parents shamelessly about what he and Daphne had done immediately because Lucius Malfoy had owled Astoria’s father straight away to inform him of what a disgraceful daughter he had. Her parents had been so ashamed and embarrassed, so angry at their daughter for messing up the only duty she had. _To be a proper woman_. Daphne had cried for hours upon hours and slept in Astoria’s bed for days, not wanting to be alone. She was terrified to go home for the holidays, afraid of what their father might to do her. Astoria loved and respected her father but he was a brutal man in his worst moods and Daphne had humiliated him. Astoria had wept for her older sister, afraid and heartbroken for her as well. 

But she had allowed it to happen. 

She knew where Daphne was going that evening, she knew that Draco had seduced and manipulated her into believing it was a good idea, she knew what they were going to do, she knew it would ruin her. She could have reported to the prefects that there were students out too late, she could have threatened Daphne to owl her parents, she could have _followed_ her, she could have done _so much_ to stop her from doing what she did. She didn’t. She hadn’t even said a word to talk her out of it. 

She didn’t _want_ to. 

That night she had sat upright in her bed staring at the wall ahead of her and waited for her sister to return. She had refused to move, to do anything to stop Daphne, knowing that if she did then her sister would still have a very good chance to take the spot she wanted as Mrs. Malfoy. She chose herself over protecting her sister and her family’s image.

Well, here she was. Mrs. Malfoy. She had gotten what she had so desperately wanted. She deserved this feeling of fear; this feeling of creeping emptiness. 

Astoria froze, her heart sinking. Sex. She had to have sex tonight. Astoria bit into her tongue hard. She didn’t want to start crying again. She had only processed so little of the outcome of this marriage before this day that everything was overwhelming her. She had to present her untouched body to this cold and uncaring man who had slept with so many women that he himself had probably lost count years ago.He most likely wouldn’t be gentle with her and she doubted she would be able to have time to breathe before he sent her back to her room, used and sore. 

Astoria took a shuddering breath after sitting still for a few minutes and stood from the bed, going to the bathroom to wash and prepare herself in the most suitable way possible for. To please him. She didn’t have a choice. This was her duty. 

Draco was staring at a letter when he heard the girl knock on his door. His eyes narrowed at it slightly. Was this not what these girls were taught _not_ to do? Wasn’t she _not_ meant to come and bother him until she was called? _This_ was supposed to be the girl most suited for him and the most obedient?

Maybe she wasn’t as boring as he so thought. 

Draco flicked his wand and the doors swung open as he went back to looking at his letter. He heard her come into the room slowly and quietly but she didn’t speak once she was close enough. Apparently she was waiting to be spoken to.

“You’ve already come here to bother me without being called so you might as well continue with your poor manners and tell me what you want,” Draco said calmly, moving his eyes to look into hers. 

He watched the girl frown at the floor and swallow, looking very uncomfortable. “I’m sorry.. It’s just getting late and I don’t know how much longer I will be able to stay up.”

“Are you not meant to stay up as late as I so please you to?”

Draco listened to her inhale sharply and he imagined her physically biting her tongue. He was curious now. He wanted to see if he could get a rise out of her. He shouldn’t be able to if she was as perfect as she had always set herself out to be, should he?

“Maybe you’re just as useless as your sister,” he told her, watching her reaction carefully. If he was meant to be married to her, he might as well know her temper. 

Astoria’s eyes flashed with surprise and anger, but her emotional reaction quickly turned into something wounded. Draco almost felt sorry for the girl, it was as if he had kicked a small dog. 

Almost. 

He had no reason to feel sorry for this girl. She had no dirty work as he did. She never had to deal with the Dark Lord, she never dealt with the repercussions of disappointing him, she never had to fight in the war, she didn’t have to deal with any of the aftermath of losing the war. Her whole life was simple and all she had to do was sit pretty and wait for a rich husband so she could keep her mouth shut and spend his money for the rest of her spoiled days. 

His eyes had darkened now slightly with bitterness as he watched her struggle to find an appropriate response to him. Her voice was shaky when she spoke again, and he wondered if she might cry for a second time that night. 

“I’m sorry. I only wondered if you wanted me here.. Before you went to sleep yourself to.. Cons-“

“I’m not going to fuck you now. Go to bed,” he interrupted her, waving his hand dismissively. 

Astoria blinked up at him in confusion, stepping towards him. She was so small and fragile looking. He noticed her sheer white nightgown draped nicely over her pale body. Virgin white. 

“Well.. Why?” She asked him, scowling at what seemed to be herself. 

“I don’t want to fuck you, you don’t want me to fuck you, and I’m busy. Later.”

He watched her stand there for a while, most likely trying to decide if she was upset at being unwanted or relieved that she didn’t have to go through with having sex with him that night. She met his eyes and nodded slowly, murmuring apologies about bothering him and left as quietly as she had come in. As she left, he let his eyes trail down the back of her frame. She had a lovely body but he did not want to have sex with an unwilling girl. Perhaps she could lie to herself that she was willing, but he knew that having sex with him was the last thing she wanted to do that night and he wasn’t in the mood to accommodate a crying virgin. 

Which he _would_ accommodate for. 

He may not have feelings for the girl but she was his wife. He had never treated a woman badly in _that_ sense and he wouldn’t start with his _wife_. He may not care enough to make being married to him easy for her, but he didn’t want to torture her either. 


	3. Chapter 3

Astoria walked shakily down the manor halls, sure she wouldn’t be able to find her room again while she was so distracted with thoughts and emotions. She made her way down the steps so she could go to the gardens instead. She needed fresh air. Draco’s comment about her staying up at late as _he_ pleased her to floated to the top of her thoughts and she snorted slightly. So he was going to be one of _those_ men. Impossibly difficult and abusive of their power.

Of course he was going to be one of those men. 

Why was she caught off guard by these apparent realizations? She knew these things. She knew how Lucius Malfoy was and she had watched how Draco was for years. She shouldn’t have expected him to be halfway decent. No, he would be the average, incredibly sexist and demanding pureblood man. She should have thought about how it would feel to be married to him before. Astoria was taught how to _act_ in response to men like him, and she had encountered men like him and _worse_. However, it was different to actually be married to one of those men now. Her parents’ relationship had been a luxury. Her mother still knew her place and her father could be cruel but most of the time he was very reasonable and level headed. He was thoughtful towards her mother and he cared for her and her sister. He was not cuddly and over affectionate but she did have some warm memories of him that she was very fond of. She had always just wanted to make him proud.

This had made him proud. 

She sat down on the cool, marble bench in the gardens and breathed in the scent of all the flowers and earth, attempting to let it soothe her. She thought of her own garden and wondered how her plants were fairing without her, especially now that her home were empty. They had house-elves for upkeep of course, but she much preferred her own gardening to theirs. Her parents and sister had left in result of the remaining Death Eaters, along with some inspired foreigners, attempting to revive themselves. Her father was never a Death Eater, but it had been rumored that they were recruiting pure-bloods especially of high status by force even if they had kept out of the war. Her father had always snorted at the idea of Voldemort and thought him ridiculous. “Me, a pure-blood man, _bow_ to a half-blood who supposedly sees me as superior? If he sees me as superior why would I bow to him exactly? I will not and neither will my family,” he would quip and shake his head in irritation every time a pure-blood family we associated with would fall to worship Voldemort. 

Though, of course when it came to the _Malfoys_ her father would overlook their choice to follow Voldemort. 

She knew that was why Draco’s parents were gone as well. Draco had to stay at the manor of course to hold their name in place but Lucius had gone quite unhinged during the war and it was best if he and his wife weren’t around if these new Death Eaters came looking for them.

Astoria lifted her legs onto the bench and curled to lay on her side on it, her eyes blurring slightly. She had never been away from her sister for very long at all. They may not have had a cuddly relationship; Daphne tended to take her insecurities out on Astoria and talk down to her, but they had always been together.

Now she was alone. 

Alone with Draco Malfoy, her new husband who had just informed her that he did not want to have sex with her on their wedding night. Astoria did not know what to make of that. He had slept with much more common looking girls than her and he obviously did not care about something as silly as _personality_ so what was wrong with her that as his _wife_ he did not want to have sex with her? She glanced down at her body. Maybe she was just undesirable.. 

If Astoria felt insecure before going to Draco Malfoy for sex only to be rejected; her insecurities were now tripled.

Her tears began again and she cursed quietly. Apparently she _hadn’t_ run out of tears. She shivered at the breeze but was too tired to get up from the cold bench she was laying on so instead she buried her face into her arms and wept softly. She didn’t have any close friends of her own. All of the friends she had were Daphne’s friends who she tagged herself along with. Though she was terrible at making friends of her own, Astoria needed to be around social interactions. She never had much of a chance to make her own adventures and experience anything worth talking about because she was so focused on keeping herself in line. Her outlet was listening to others go on about their own lives. She loved emotions both good and bad. She loved the hum that was created in a room when too many voices were mixed together at once and she was able to just drown herself in the atmosphere of personalities and feelings. She may not have many personal experiences, but she knew quite a bit about the consequences of life just by paying attention to everyone around her. 

Now what would she do? She wouldn’t even have her mother in law to share the manor with. Draco barely spoke and even if he did he would have no desire to speak to her. What a horrible match they were. Both silent and without personality. 

Astoria stiffened. No, that wasn’t true.. She _did_ have a personality. She did. She had to. She had a brain that she was always using, she was talented, well spoken, she always had amazing marks in school, she was always admired by adults, and she had the Malfoy name now. How could she not have a personality to fit in somewhere among all of her attributes?

Boring.

It was something Daphne’s friends had called her often as did the stupid boys that tried to manhandle her and get her into bed with them. She never felt bothered by it much before until now. Now when she remembered being called that she realized how they would _sneer_ it at her. If they didn’t say it with disgust, it would be in a whine with something along the lines of, “Daphne, she’s _boring_ though.” 

Astoria’s body shook and she pressed her face harder into her arms to muffle her now sobs. She realized now that nobody had ever _liked_ her truly aside from adults who only appreciated how _boring_ she was. 

It was too late to change that. 

Draco sat up in his bed as the sun started to rise and leak through his balcony doors. The brightness irritated his eyes and he got up, aggravated that he hadn’t closed his curtains before he had attempted to sleep only about an hour before. He went past the balcony doors as he did most mornings to breathe and take in the endless property around him while feeling imprisoned in his own home. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, squinting at the form of his wife sleeping on the bench in the gardens. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. 

She was surprising him still. 

Ah how he wished his mother were here to see her precious pick sleeping half naked in the _plants_ like a stray dog. He shook his head a second time and went back into his room to dress himself, leaving the girl to her slumber in the cold morning. She was more than likely getting eaten alive by the magical pests that lived in those plants. 

How unfortunate for her. 

Draco made his way downstairs to the study, finding Blaise waiting for him. 

“Yes I figured you would be awake. Congratulations on your twelve year old bride. I’m so distraught I’ve missed the wedding,” Blaise told him dully. 

Draco snorted and shut the doors behind him. “Only an apology? You missed the most important day of my life. I at least expected a gift in remorse.” 

Blaise smirked at him and leaned back in the arm chair he had been waiting for him in. “So where is the blushing bride? I hope you didn’t really fuck an eight year old,” he said, wrinkling his nose slightly. 

“I believe she is sixteen maybe seventeen-” Blaise snorted loudly at him, “-and she does not have the body of an eight year old according to my assessments last night. But no, I did not fuck her. She’s a rigid thing and forced sex is not really my cup of tea. She’s sleeping practically naked in the gardens at the moment.”

Blaise raised both eyebrows at him. “So you repulsed the poor toddler so much that she couldn’t even stomach to sleep in the same closed space as you?”

Draco gave him a narrowed look though his eyes were filled with amusement. He glanced around the room. “Where is Nott? He’s usually tacked on with you.”

“He is here. I’m not sure where he went though. He never keeps still,” Blaise said, shaking his head. “Perhaps he’s gone to find your lovely wife.”

“Yes well he has always wanted what was mine.”

Astoria woke with the feeling of being watched and she froze with her face still buried in her goosebump covered arms. She assumed it was Draco coming to mock her for falling asleep in the gardens in the cold and her face burned hot with embarrassment. 

“What are you doing?” 

Astoria jumped at the voice that was quite obviously _not_ Draco’s and she scrambled to sit up, trying to cover herself with her arms. Her nightgown practically showed everything. “I um.. Just fell asleep,” she told him, cringing and squeezing her eyes shut when her arms brushed against her breasts, realizing how much they betrayed how cold it was. She desperately hoped he hadn’t seen that. 

She felt something warm drape over her shoulders and she opened her eyes to find him giving her his coat. She looked up at the man gratefully, recognizing him as Theodore Nott. “Thank you.. Theodore. I don’t know what has gotten into me,” she said slowly, looking away from his eyes. The Notts were close in circle with the families she had grown up around. Perhaps she was lucky her family was no where to be found. If Theodore thought this an amusing story to tell her father would be so mortified with her. 

Now she had Draco to mortify by sleeping body bared to the world outside with the bugs. Fear ran through her and she stood up quickly only to stumble back down as dizziness swept over her. 

“You have a few insect bites. They are probably giving you a sort of reaction,” Theodore told her, catching her arm to make sure she landed back on her bottom.

She looked at his hand on her arm and nodded slowly, her head spinning. “Ow,” she frowned and noticed the little stinging spots that peppered a few different areas of her body. 

She listened to him chuckle, though he surprisingly didn’t sound mocking. She looked back up at his eyes. There was kindness in them along with amusement and she tilted her head curiously. She _did_ remember Theodore to be one of Draco’s more reserved friends but she still knew he played the same games as they had with girls like her. Then again they weren’t at Hogwarts anymore and he _was_ always polite as a child. She remembered dancing with him more than once at different pure-blood parties. He was quite good. Almost as good as Draco. 

“I appreciate your kindness,” she said honestly, though she knew she shouldn’t be wearing another man’s piece of clothing. She was sure Draco wouldn’t care if she froze to death as long as his wife wasn’t caught in such an inappropriate situation with another man. 

“I’m sure you do, love. I doubt very much your new husband has shown you any. What a shame, treating such an impossibly beautiful woman such as yourself without care is against nature. Were you not married yesterday? Sleeping _outside_ on your _wedding_ night..” Theodore tsked, examining her. 

Astoria shifted, pulling the fabric of his coat around her to cover herself better. His scent was warm with traces of cinnamon along with a light, slightly spicy cologne. “It was my fault. I came out here myself and accidentally fell asleep,” she murmured, becoming aware of the stickiness of the nearly dried tears on her face. 

“Cried yourself to sleep in the gardens, did you?” Theodore helped her up slowly, guiding her into the house. 

“Well I’m.. Just going to miss my family. That’s all,” she told him, staring at the backdoors to the manor worriedly. She really did not want Draco to catch her coming in this way. With him. 

“Ah huh. I see,” he told her slowly, obviously communicating that he did not believe her when she said that was all.

As soon as they were in the doors she slipped from him quickly, thanking him in a hushed voice. She stumbled up the stairs hurriedly, still dizzy. 

Draco glanced up when Nott came in and then went back to examining the foreign seal on the letter he had received. “Done snooping through my home, Nott?”

“Done snooping through your gardens actually,” he answered slyly. “Beautiful things to find there.”

“And one of the flowers stole some of your clothing I suppose?” Blaise said, eyeing Nott’s shirt which had been covered by his coat earlier. 

“Well one particular flower was quite cold,” Nott responded, his voice mocking innocence. “I had to help in some way.”

Draco watched Nott, his eyes flashing darkly. “Don’t touch,” he told him coldly. The girl had let another man _clothe_ her? Not only another man, but a man who could easily open his mouth and make Draco look like he had no control over his new bride who apparently had wandering eyes for the men in his circle. 

“Well you certainly aren’t,” Theodore replied, his eyes glowing with smugness.

“Children _do_ get sick from the cold easily, Draco,” Blaise said nodding, adding to the problem on purpose.

“Oh, she was definitely _not_ a child,” Nott purred, watching Draco, challenging him. 

Draco raised an eyebrow back at him and went back to observing the seal looking unbothered again. The little bitch. How dare she allow _Nott_ to have something to smirk about at _his_ expense. Again, how was this the girl that his mother thought best suited for him? It was as if she knew no basics of respect and loyalty and at the very least how _not to act like a whore._


	4. Chapter 4

 

By the time Astoria had found her room she was panting, feeling fevered. Though she doubted any of the magical pest bites would leave any real damage, they still had a couple of random and unfavorable side effects. They were also completely avoidable if she had just chosen to _not_ sleep outside like an animal. Honestly, what would her mother say? 

Astoria went to pull off the thick coat that was adding heat to her fevered skin and groaned when she realized she hadn’t given it back to Theodore. The last thing she needed was a piece of another man’s clothing in her bedroom and there was no appropriate way to return it to him without ending up in another uncomfortable situation. It wasn’t as if she had _meant_ to end up in such a situation with him. What was she meant to do? Ignore him when he had spoken to her? That would have been a poor decision as well. 

Or she could have avoided it simply if she hadn’t fallen asleep wearing barely nothing on that bench.

Astoria grit her teeth, stumbling slightly to her bathroom. Mistake after mistake. Why? She never got herself into predicaments like this before. Draco must have a horrible effect on her. Or she wasn’t as well put together as she had so thought. She shook her head at herself and turned her shower to cold, stepping in carefully as not to fall. She slowly warmed the water as her body temperature leveled out to something more bearable and she began scrubbing herself down, grimacing at the stinging bites. She tried to imagine if Draco would be cruel when he confronted her. She knew he _would_ confront her. There was no way he wouldn’t know what had happened. She was sure Theodore, despite the kindness he had shown her, was taunting him about it. Perhaps he just wouldn’t care. He didn’t seem to care about anything at all. 

Of course he would care. No matter how little he cared for _her_ she knew that if there was one thing he _did_ still care about it would be his pride. A man’s wife having a relatively intimate interaction with another man is definitely something that would hit any man in his pride as well as his image. Astoria shivered and turned the shower off, wrapping her towel around her tightly and leaving her bathroom to get herself dressed, closing the door behind her. Yes, he would care and yes, he was sure to make her pay for it.

Astoria stiffened when she looked up, her heart jumping into her throat. Draco was there, waiting for her, watching her. He lifted Theodore’s coat that he was holding slightly towards her so she would see it clearly. She stared at it unmoving, swallowing hard.

“Isn’t this interesting?” he asked her calmly. “Now, I don’t believe this is mine. But,” he paused to look around the room for effect, “this manor is mine. The gardens you fell asleep in last night are mine. This bedroom is mine. That towel you’re clutching is mine.” Draco’s voice had darkened as he spoke, and Astoria had stopped breathing. She wondered if he would beat her or even use a spell on her. She had witnessed Lucius slap his wife once from around the hallway so she wouldn’t be shocked if Draco behaved similarly. She hoped desperately he wouldn’t. He was much stronger and larger than her and he knew a lot of Dark Magic from being trained as a Death Eater. 

He could really make her pay for her mistake if he wanted to. He could make her _beg_ him to stop and forgive her. 

More fear flowed through her and she watched as Draco dropped the coat as he muttered something and the coat caught fire, burning up into nothing. Draco strode towards her until he was practically pressed against her. He grabbed both of her cheeks with one of his hands and jerked her chin up to look at him. His fingers squeezed her face painfully and she winced and forced herself not to pull away on impulse. With his other hand he tugged the towel off of her, making her truly vulnerable to him in nearly every way. She whimpered in response, using all of her willpower not to move and try to cover herself. 

“ _You are mine_ ,” he snarled softly, squeezing her face harder before sliding his hand into the back of her hair and grabbing a handful of it while he pushed his mouth down hard on hers and kissed her roughly. 

Draco felt the girl gasp against his mouth and she stumbled back slightly but his hand held her face firmly to his. He had intended to pull alway, kissing her had only been to make a point, but he felt her mouth relax and respond slightly. 

Intelligent choice.

He deepened the kiss instead, slowing the movement of his lips so she could find a rhythm to match his. It had been a bit of a while since he had touched a woman. He had been haunted with thoughts and not interested in anything lately. He supposed he could make an exception while he was making his point, and Astoria did feel quite nice. The girl was his wife after all and he may as well try to enjoy her at least in a small way. Her lips were soft against his and she moved them timidly. He was quite sure this was her first kiss. 

Well, he certainly wouldn’t allow her to enjoy it too much. 

Draco broke the kiss but didn’t loosen his hold in her hair, looking down at her reddened lips then slowly up to meet her eyes that were wide with anticipation. So innocent. So fragile.

Possessiveness coursed through him and tightened his fist in her hair, his eyes darkening once more. “Do we have an understanding?” he asked her softly, his voice dangerously low and silken. 

Astoria trembled slightly and he felt her try to nod but he was holding her too tightly. “Yes we do. I am sorry. Infidelity is not in my interests,” she told him. Her voice came out stronger than he had expected and her tone was sincere. 

For now. 

Draco could feel her scalp against his fingers grow hot and he released her hair, pressing the back of his hand to her burning forehead. She was lucky she was having a decently mild reaction. Stupid girl. 

“The fever is just from insect bites. I-“ her voice cut off into a strange sound when Draco’s eyes moved down her naked body to find the bites causing her fever. She seemed to have just remembered she was naked in front of him. Her arms moved to attempt to provide herself a bit of modesty and he noticed her stomach and chest become still. She had stopped breathing. The girl obviously over analyzed everything she did. 

Draco called a house-elf to fetch him the healing potion for minor injuries from his potions cabinet, scanning the amount of bites she had. He counted seven. 

“You look ridiculous and we are going to an event tomorrow,” he told her, turning her body around to check the back of her, ignoring the look of hurt and confusion on her face. She had most likely assumed he was talking about her physique. She made a small cry when he had turned her around in dismay but did nothing to stop him. Three more. He examined the back of his wife’s milky thighs and his eyes trailed up the curve of her arse. He definitely had nothing to complain about when it came to her features. 

Draco took the potion from the elf, dismissing it and began to dab the potion on the insect bites. She was quiet while he did this. It wasn’t a wonder why she had gone unnoticed in the previous years. The Greengrass family mostly kept to themselves as it is. They kept up appearances, but made sure they didn’t do anything to create buzz about them whether it be good or bad. Aldrich Greengrass was a very serious man who spoke little, and Draco remembered being wary of him as a child as he was always watching everyone, judgement in his eyes. Every time he spoke it seemed like he was patronizing the person he was speaking to. Draco remembered his father angrily spitting at his mother about how Aldrich had belittled him for being a Death Eater and had demanded that she stopped inviting the family to their events. Obviously, that hadn’t happened. The Greengrass family was too respectable to not be acquainted with and his father had seemed to accept that.

And apparently his mother had taken a liking to their daughter.

He remembered Daphne Greengrass bitching more than once about her father’s favoritism towards her sister, usually right in front of her as well. He supposed now that Astoria always _had_ been around him. She was just quiet and unnoticeable next to her louder older sister. After seeing both sisters fully now, Draco easily preferred Astoria. 

Draco turned Astoria back around and finished applying the potion on her incredibly still body. She still wasn’t breathing as far as he could tell until she inhaled to speak. 

“Who is hosting the event?” 

“Flint.”

Draco stood and watched her nod thoughtfully, looking past him at nothing while thinking this over. “Okay,” she replied. He was sure she was assessing exactly how to program herself to act for that particular family as that’s all these women knew how to do. 

Keep up appearances. 

Draco moved from her with growing resentment. He couldn’t stand these mindless girls. He couldn’t stand any of it. So many of their people had suffered from the war, so many families separated. Yet, they still had their parties and their images and Draco was still to participate in all of it while his parents were off somewhere avoiding the leeches that were coming back out to use his people once more.

“Did I do something wrong?” Astoria asked him, her voice sounding disappointed. Ah? Disappointment? Because he wasn’t blown away and lovestruck after her inexperienced kissing or seeing her naked?

“Yes. You’ve been nothing but an inappropriate mess since you have arrived and you embarrassed me,” he told her coldly, turning from her and stalking out of the room. Her face had turned incredibly sad again when he had spoken. He chuckled coldly. What a simple creature she was.

Astoria cringed when she heard his light laughter at her expense as he left, feeling humiliated and small. He had gotten so angry looking so quickly when was calm and gentle with her only moments before. She tried to think of what she could have done to incite such a reaction. She touched her lips, thinking of how he had kissed her in an almost punishing way. 

To show her that he owned her. 

When she had accepted it and kissed him in return, it was as if he had rewarded her for good behavior by softening the kiss enough for her to really experience it. She was sure she was terrible at it. She had never kissed anyone before and certainly not while being completely nude and frightened.

Astoria scowled and picked up her towel, wrapping it back around herself before going to her wardrobe. She had also never been seen naked before. He had been so close.. Touching her. His hands were so smooth and sure. And his mouth.. The feelings that she had just experienced were foreign to her. She had never given much attention to her sexual nature. 

No one had ever appealed to it in that way. 

Well, she supposed it was a _good_ thing that she wasn’t completely repulsed by her husband. Though actually, thinking again, it was probably a bad thing. The rejection he had just given her had stung enough and it was only bound to be more painful the more she was interested in his affections. 

She looked down at her bites curiously and was pleased to see them already fading into nothing, her fever as well. He was always very good at potions. Though healing potions weren’t particularly very hard to make; it took a talented wizard to make one that worked as quickly as this one seemed to be. A bit of pride for her husband flowed through her and she smiled oddly. Even as he was closed off and seemed to have a dislike for her she was still experiencing pride for him. Memories of herself as a child came to mind and she pictured herself asking her mother when she was young if her mother had thought Narcissa liked Lucius. “Ahh.. Like him?” She had replied, laughing lightly to herself. 

“Yes, mother. I was with her today and Mr. Malfoy came past and snapped at her for no reason. It was scary.”

Her mother had stopped reading for a moment and looked upwards thoughtfully. “I don’t believe _liking_ your husband is too common among our people, love. Everyone’s marriage is different and complex, so it is hard for me to say if she likes him or not. Though, you don’t have to like someone to care for them. You don’t even have to like someone to love them.”

“I hope I like my husband,” Astoria had replied worriedly. 

Her mother smiled sadly. “I am sure you will, darling. You don’t dislike many people.”

Her mother had never mentioned that Astoria would have to worry about her husband liking _her._

Did she like Draco? She didn’t think she _dis_ liked him, but she didn’t particularly like him either. He was too unknown and unreadable and she was quite sure she wasn’t getting him to open up for emotional confessions any time soon.   
She was sure he was deeply haunted by the war and that was what helped create his cold and careless demeanor. A lot of them were affected by the war, especially those who were close to Voldemort. She knew Voldemort was quite displeased with the Malfoys and she thought of Draco’s sixth year when he had started to change into the cold shell he was now. Voldemort must have done unspeakable things to him and it made her angry. Why would people participate in such nonsense? The thought of allowing a man, a _half-blood_ , to completely destroy them and send them into a suicide war was completely ridiculous to her. There had to be a more sensible way to maintain the beliefs they cared about without Voldemort and his nonsense ideas and plans. 

What would happen if these new Death Eaters came for Draco? Would they want him after he had failed so badly? Perhaps they would come to kill or torture him for being weak and disappointing Voldemort. For _leaving_ during the battle at Hogwarts. Fear seeped into her chest and she closed her eyes. She may fear a boring, lonely life but she would take it over a life filled with murder and torture a million times over. She hoped dearly they would leave her husband alone and allow her to live her quiet and empty life in peace. 

Astoria made her way downstairs after getting ready, examining the many paintings on the wall of the past Malfoy family members. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard voices coming from the kitchen and she stopped and sat herself on the bottom step, listening to the conversation between her husband and his friends. 

Sound traveled well in the stone covered manor. 

They were discussing who they believed may be turning to join the new group of Death Eaters, evaluating the families and rumors. They were getting quite a bit wrong actually, most of the people they were suspecting were completely unlikely and they were missing some of the most blatant people to suspect. 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. The Aurors are keeping a tight watch on everything at this point. They won’t be able to get very far. The new leader isn’t even from around here. It’s dwindled into a fan club by now. Completely pathetic,” she heard Blaise say.

“Whether that’s true or not we still have to be cautious. The Aurors are hardly outside our doors making sure we are all safe from “recruitment”. Flint is hosting this thing tomorrow night. It would be easy for him to gather all of us there and trap us,” Theodore said, sounding slightly paranoid.

Astoria snorted loudly. The Flints? They were suspecting the Flints of such a trick? Oh please. Did they know _nothing_ of the families in the community?  
She cursed silently to herself when she heard their voices stop. They had heard her. 

“Come here, Astoria,” she heard Draco say coolly. 

Astoria frowned and stood slowly, walking into the kitchen stiffly.

Blaise looked her up and down critically, his dark eyes lingering on her frame. She avoided looking at Theodore. 

“Is there something you wanted to add to the conversation you were not invited to be a part of?” There was no emotion in Draco’s voice, but she knew he was angry with her. Again. It was just one mistake after another with her. 

“I just thought it ridiculous to suspect the Flint family of planning a trick like that,” Astoria answered quietly, honestly. Though it would not help her to tell the truth of what she thought, Astoria preferred not to lie to her new husband. 

“I see. I suppose I do have the tendency to be ridiculous,” Theodore said, amusement in his voice. She was surprised he didn’t sound at least irritated at her for belittling his idea.

“I’m sure none of us would argue you with you there, Nott,” Draco said dully.

“Why do you find it ridiculous, munchkin?” Blaise asked her and Astoria blinked at him, wrinkling her forehead at “munchkin” slightly.

“Because the Flint family absolutely refuses to get their hands dirty and has never once even shown an inkling of desire to be a part of the war. They tend to agree with whoever they are around to avoid conflict, but rarely follow through with what they talk about. Don’t you pay attention to the families?” Blaise snorted at her question and the other two men didn’t respond and the looks on their faces told her that the answer was no. “On top of that, they are taking money from the ministry to report anything suspicious and I’m sure there will be one or two hidden Aurors there tomorrow night that they will pass off as a family friend or something or another. They have been doing that since before the war.”

“What,” Theodore said flatly. 

“Oh come off it. I can believe that they would avoid getting involved but working with the Ministry? Not likely,” Blaise said dismissively. 

“It is true. The Flint family has lost most of their fortune and I suspect the Ministry pays them well for their secrets,” Astoria insisted. 

“Where did you come by this information?” Draco asked her. He seemed to believe her. 

Astoria looked sheepish and she fidgeted slightly. “People tend to not speak in hushed voices around me. Especially the older women. I have heard Mrs. Flint speak about it more than once to Mrs. Destree. The Destrees are doing the same.”

“Well aren’t you the little rat. Maybe your child bride is useful after all, Draco.” 

Astoria pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at Blaise’s comment. She actually found him quite funny.

“Tell me, do you know what I sing in the shower as well?” Blaise continued on mockingly, leaning forward and narrowing her eyes at her.

“No, not that. Though I do know of a few quiet encounters with a girl with red hair,” she replied back smoothly. She shouldn’t challenge him, but Blaise was not her husband.

Blaise’s eyes flashed with shock and alarm and he sat back quickly, looking extremely irritated. She looked at Draco who was raising an eyebrow at him and Theodore started laughing.   
“Who is she talking about? Surely you wouldn’t think we’d care who you shagged,” Theodore said. “Unless it was someone you shouldn’t have been shagging..”

“I don’t know what she means. Children make up fantasies all of the time. I’m quite sure there are more pressing matters to discuss,” he snapped. “Like the fact that there are families close to us working for the other side and have been for a while. Which means they have betrayed a lot of us.”

“So you _believe_ her now do you? I thought she was making up fantasies?” Theodore asked him mockingly. 

Draco said nothing during his friends’ exchange and his eyes were unfocused, seemingly deep in thought. She wondered if he was upset by this information, and she felt worried for a moment that he might confront the Flint family. No, most of the people in her community weren’t confrontational unless the perfect opportunity came to pass. There was no reason to accuse the Flints of being traitors especially since it would benefit them now. 

Still, betrayal was not something to be taken lightly.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, this is the last of the chapters I have already written up. Maybe my next chapter can have a more personalized note. Happy reading!

Astoria looked up and down at her body in her floor length mirror, tilting side to side to evaluate herself in the gown she was wearing, making sure it fit her to her liking. The dress was a deep blue, the skirt of the gown chiffon and the bodice covered in black lace that wrapped upand around her collar bones and covered the length of her arms. The dress seemed modest enough until she turned around and the entire length of her back was exposed almost down to her tailbone. Astoria frowned and looked at her pale back in the mirror, wishing she could cover it up. She had never worn dresses out like this before now. Before now she hadn’t been a taken woman, a prize to be shown off.

A trophy wife. 

Astoria examined her face in the mirror, taking in her familiar light freckles, natural eyes, and mouth. They wouldn’t do. She went to her bathroom to take a closer look and frowned, grabbing her makeup from the counter. She covered her freckles and added some shadow to her eyes, adding a flick of eyeliner to each lid, creating a much more sultry effect than she had naturally. She went over her lips with the traditional, stand out red and stood back, staring at herself. She never wore much more than mascara. The woman looking back at her seemed foreign to her, older and much more daring. This woman sought to be the center of attention, which Astoria never was. She wanted to take it all off and put on a dress much less attention grabbing, but she couldn’t. She was not Miss Greengrass anymore. She had to be _Mrs. Malfoy_ now. A Malfoy didn’t fade into the background with modesty.

Astoria finished pinning her hair into a neat and perfected updo, the pins in her hair shining with sapphires. Astoria knew people would look at her tonight much differently than anyone had ever looked at her before. She would be under everyone’s judging gazes and not as a young, polite daughter of a well respected, pure-blood man; but the trophy wife of Draco Malfoy. 

No longer a girl but a woman.

Astoria closed her eyes and fought off her desires to shrink back into the child that grew up in her parents home, working to make them proud instead of a wife about to be shown off like an accessory. Every woman she knew had to go through similar, she chided herself. She shouldn’t be a coward. She shouldn’t be ungrateful that she had achieved such a name of status.

Astoria’s mind flashed to watching Pansy Parkinson drunk in Astoria’s family gardens at fifteen, Astoria nearly thirteen, in the lap of a random pure-blood boy during one of her family’s parties, snogging each other senseless. The couple had at least been sensible to make sure they were obscured from view because they _knew better_ than to be acting like this in the first place. They knew they had to have their “rebel moments” in secret, and so far they were doing a relatively decent job aside from being seen by Astoria. 

Unfortunately for them, Astoria was going to change that. 

She had walked into her home to find Narcissa, aware of her father’s watchful gaze on her, convincing her she should see the new flowers she had arranged herself in her gardens that she loved. Narcissa had finally come with her after a bit of convincing, and Astoria had acted shocked and scandalized to see Pansy Parkinson sloppily drunk in a random boy’s lap, her mouth practically glued to him while Narcissa made a sound in disgust, turning Astoria away so she wouldn’t be exposed to such a scene. 

Yes, Astoria had wanted this. She would accept her prize and stop being such a child about it, she told herself firmly. Her father would be disappointed in her acting as immature as she was. She nodded to herself in the mirror and left her bedroom to meet Draco who was dressed in a black, smooth suit. She waited patiently while he looked her up and down, his eyes not lending any hints to his thoughts. She took his arm when he offered it, making herself breathe evenly. 

Astoria’s eyes scanned the Flint mansion, seeing so many faces she was used to seeing mingling in the barely lit ballroom. A familiar sense of aristocracy hung heavily in the air. A wave of relief and confidence washed over her and she surprisingly felt comfortable. Her eyes flashed with triumph and she stood even taller next to her husband. 

She was in her element. 

Astoria felt almost every set of eyes in the room fall on her, assessing her, _judging_ her. She followed Draco’s, lead unfazed by the looks, _this_ is what she was prepared for. She knew how to do this. 

Astoria began to mingle when she was spoken to smoothly, her words confident and practiced. She felt so grateful she could _do things right_ again and she also felt a new sense of identity, a shift in the way she normally answered questions. She _felt_ that she was a Malfoy wife now in nearly every way. She hadn’t felt the change in her, but she knew she had adjusted to meet the standards of her new role with ease. Her fear she had felt in the previous days was temporarily gone. She knew the hum of sounds surrounding her, cluster of voices she was so attuned to, and the familiar environment she had grown up in helped her comfort immensely and she was quite sure her confidence would falter once she returned to her new home and the deafening silence. 

Astoria switched dancing partners and found herself in Theodore Nott’s sure arms. This time, she smiled politely at him. She wasn’t doing anything wrong _now._

“Well well, _Mrs. Malfoy_. I don’t know if Blaise can call you a child bride any longer,” he told her, his voice low and flirtatious. His eyes stayed on hers, however, which she could not say for the other men her age and much older that she had danced with who had no shame in raking their eyes over her figure as much as they liked. 

“You look very good as well, Theodore,” she replied to him, making sure she didn’t seem _too_ friendly as eyes were still watching her. 

“We never got to speak after a piece of my wardrobe went missing. Well. Alone that is. You did call me ridiculous between then and now.”

“Ah, yes. I’m sorry to say your coat is long gone. I also didn’t call you ridiculous. I said that I thought your _idea_ was ridiculous. I do apologize for insulting you, though. I can promise that is never my intention.”

“Don’t worry about it, love. I like a woman to keep me on my toes,” he told her, winking. 

The things men were allowed to get away with that women would never. 

“I can’t say I’m shocked about my coat. I hope he wasn’t too hard on you. I don’t blame him for his jealousy, I’m afraid,” Theodore continued when she hadn’t responded, spinning her slowly. Astoria felt his eyes on her exposed back and there was almost a pause in their movement before he brought her back around in his arms. “You are absolutely something to hold on tight to.” 

She felt her face flush and she tried to keep her expression neutral as she let him lead her. “He wasn’t hard on me, but he had every reason to be. I don’t know what came over me. It was entirely inappropriate.” 

“I hope whatever it was comes over you again.” 

She fought the urge to huff at him in exasperation. She had gone to Hogwarts with him for years and he had never pursued her. She was sure he only wanted her now because she was _Draco’s._

Men were horridly simple creatures at times. 

“I didn’t expect you to handle your first night out as a married woman so well based on the way I found you yesterday. I have to say, I don’t think any of these girls in attendance here would look as in place as you do right now actually,” Theodore mused. “Though I’m sure you would look just as well with my name attached to you.”

“People have a habit of underestimating me,” Astoria replied, smiling and ignoring the second half of his words. 

“Does that bother you?”

“No. There is a lot of advantage in being more or different than what people expect you to be,” she said softly, looking around at all of the people she knew so much about. Secrets that could destroy some of them. 

They switched partners once more before he could say anything else and she was finally in the arms of her husband. Draco pressed her body close to his and he held her much more intimately than her dancing partners before. “Were you enjoying Nott, my dear wife?” he asked her softly after leaning in close to her face, his lips brushing against her ear as he asked her this in the same way he would if he were asking if she enjoyed the hors d’oeuvres. This made him seem all the more intimidating. 

“Was that who that was?” She asked him, feigning curiousness in a poor attempt at humor. 

Draco pulled back slightly and somehow a touch of amusement graced his eyes but he didn’t reply, his eyes moving from her to around the room. She danced with him quietly for a few minutes, appreciating how well and easily he moved as well as how strong and sure his hands felt on her. He guided her in such an expert way that she didn’t even have to pay attention to her own movements. She took in the hum of sounds around her, focusing on other couples’ words, listening. 

Before she could make out many comprehendible sentences, Draco had released her, leaving her alone on the side of the ballroom. She was confused and looked around. The song hadn’t ended yet. 

A hand slid up her back and Astoria jumped, spinning around to find her grinning sister dressed in a simple but gorgeous silver gown, her straight blonde hair gathered nicely atop her head. Emotion flooded through her and she pulled her into a tight embrace, taking in her familiar warmth and smell. 

“Why are you here?” Astoria breathed out the words, suddenly worried for her sister. “Please tell me you didn’t sneak away.” 

“You know I snuck away,” Daphne said, pulling away and rolling her eyes. “Why are _you_ here looking like _that_?” Daphne eyed her up and down. “Fuck, I hate you. I was at least hoping you’d resemble _just slightly_ a five year old trying on her mother’s heels for the first time, but here you are. Looking perfect. Mind screwing up occasionally, Tori?” Daphne’s bitter tone only slightly reached her eyes and Astoria smiled sadly. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” she told her, not addressing her other comments. “I just don’t want you to get into trouble.”  
“Oh please. It’s fine. They won’t even know. Besides, it’s the Flints for Merlin’s sake. As if anything _remotely_ exciting would happen at their place. If you weren’t here I’d actually find it a blessing that I’m not supposed to be in attendance.”

“I wouldn’t refer to danger as just excitement, but yes, I know. Theodore, Blaise, and Draco were contemplating this to be a trap set up by the family if you can believe it.”

Daphne snorted louder than Astoria had yesterday. “I swear to you, Astoria. Men know nothing besides what will be in bed with them when they go to sleep at night.”

Before Astoria could ask about their parents and where they were staying, Draco had returned again with Blaise and a few others began to mingle close by, attempting to listen in on some interesting conversation they could gossip about later.

Draco watched Astoria with her sister as he approached carefully, seeing her in a different light tonight than he had in the past couple of days of their time together. _This_ was the woman his parents had arranged him to. She was a perfect Malfoy wife and Draco’s resentment burned at the sight of the confidence and effortlessness she had shown in the past couple of hours and how falsely perfect and programmed she was. His attraction grew as well, as he was raised to desire women like her, to find them the most _worthy_ of him. He watched her now as he stopped in front of her, seeing how genuinely happy she was to see her sister. It was rare to see much real love in public among their community.

“Odd you aren’t in some female clump like most of the girls here. I’m sure someone could arrange for a playpen,” Blaise told Astoria, nodding to Daphne.

“It’s hard to have friends when you’re raised as a child to see every girl within five years of you as your competition,” Daphne told him.

“You have many friends, Greengrass. I’m talking about the infant,” Blaise replied, sipping his drink. 

Daphne smiled, her eyes holding an odd expression. “I did, didn’t I? And we can see which one of us made it out on top, can’t we?” 

Draco heard some of the older adults around them chuckle at her comment and nod to Astoria, regarding her admirably. One of them nudged their young daughter, repeating the lesson to them. Family name before friends and pleasure. Draco’s mind thought back to Daphne’s words years previously.

“Astoria told me that it may be best to just listen to my _own_ desires for once and live for _myself_. She’s so uptight and boring that she’d _never_ suggest a thing like that. So I figure if _she_ of all people think I should do what I want for once I had better just give in,” she had told him when she had met him in the abandoned classroom years ago just before he had taken her, not caring about what she was saying, against the wall. He had left her there immediately after he was finished, allowing her regrets to sink in and walk shamefully to her dorm after realizing what a huge mistake she had made. 

Draco felt his face smirk as he suddenly remembered Daphne’s words about her sister. His seemingly innocent wife really had been in the game to win. _Encouraging_ her sister’s downfall?

_Snake._

Draco glanced around the dimly lit room, taking in all of the bitter looks of jealousy directed at his wife from the girls that had lost to her. Pathetic. Their existences were pathetic, poor excuses for living. _This_ was all they had cared about and all their lives had ever consisted of. 

Status.

Status that wasn’t even theirs. Status that was _given_ to them when they achieved a husband as long as they impressed the right people. He was meant to respect these spoiled leeches? He was meant to respect the leech that was his wife? 

Strangely, he did feel a respect for her, watching her now. She surprisingly wasn’t cocky as a lot of girls in their community would be or flashing herself about in triumph. She only looked confident and regal, uncaring of the nasty looks she was getting from her peers. She didn’t need to fling her prize in the faces of the girls’ who loathed her. She just _was_ his wife, and that was all she needed to be in order to show them who the winner was, no longer a petty schoolgirl. 

Though he doubted she ever was simply a petty schoolgirl. 

She was intelligent and cunning. He could recognize that now. She knew what this life was and accepted it without wanting her cake and to eat it too as so many other girls had in her place. She didn’t seem mean spirited, but she was willing to do what she needed to do to obtain her goal. Out of the other possible girls that had been looked at for his hand, Draco now believed Astoria was the best choice. 

Draco watched Daphne next to her sister. She didn’t look at her with the same jealousy the other girls did, but there was still something there, something he couldn’t quite read.

“I have to go actually, Tori. I’m only willing to push father to a certain point,” Daphne told her, shaking her head. “He should be pleased I came. Maybe I will find some divorced fifty year old man here in need of a bride to take me off of his hands.”

“Daphne,” Astoria said flatly. “We are the _Greengrass_ girls. A marriage like that is meant for an off the grid pure-blood whose family is hoping-“

“ _I’m_ a Greengrass girl, Mrs. _Malfoy_. And thank you, I’m well aware of how our world works. No need to speak to me as if I have no sense,” Daphne cut her sister off, snapping irritably. 

“No, I’m speaking to you as if you have _less_ sense than I. Which has been proven to be true countless times before,” Astoria replied calmly and Daphne gave her a withering look. 

“Got it. No embarrassing _daddy_ more than I already have and try to live up to the all too perfect you. I’ll make sure to write that down. I have to leave.”

He watched Astoria ignore her sister’s sarcasm and lean forward to hug her tightly before kissing her on her cheeks. “I want to see you again soon, but I shouldn’t. So don’t make it happen. Just know I want it to,” Astoria told her, scowling. 

Daphne waved her off, turning to leave and Draco caught the emotion in her eyes as she turned. He expected she was quite miserable stuck with her disappointed parents as they were in hiding from the uprising Death Eaters while her little sister was married off. 

“We should be leaving as well. I grow tired of these things quite quickly,” Draco said to Astoria dully. He could not stand hours of more pointless small talk about things he didn’t care about, around people he didn’t care about. 

Astoria nodded, frowning. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. 

“I apologize that you don’t have all night to soak up the glory and envious glances, princess,” he told her, his voice cold now. Perhaps she did care about the attention.  
“It’s not that, Draco. I just don’t act as well around you when we are alone,” she told him softly, honestly. 

Draco watched her, studying her expression. He couldn’t argue with her there, she was quite the mess around him when they were alone. He preferred the less rehearsed and less practiced mess that was her when they were alone to how she was in this environment, he decided. He offered his arm to her silently, choosing not to respond to her comment. They spoke to the Flint family and a few others of their goodbyes before excusing themselves. He took her back to the manor, bringing her to his dark bedroom.

“You made a rather convincing Malfoy tonight,” he told her, taking the side of her face into his palm. He rested his thumb on her colored lips. “But you aren’t one properly yet.”

Draco slowly smeared the offending red from her lips across her unflawed face, ruining the time she had taken on it, watching all of the sureness and confidence leave her light blue eyes.

“Take this mess off of your face,” he told her, his voice soft. “I don’t like it.” 

The girl didn’t need makeup. She didn’t need this false illusion to match herself to every other woman he’d come to known. It masked her refreshing purity and sincerity with something wrong, fake. He didn’t move from the spot he was standing in when she nodded nervously and left to remove it. He waited there for her and she came back to him shyly, her scent of lavender and cleanliness wafting over him. He pulled her body against his, reaching behind her to trail his hand down her spine, barely touching her skin. He felt her tremble under his touch. 

It was unusual for him to be touching a girl in such an intimate way and have her not be touching him back eagerly in the process. Even the virgins he had in the past would try to mask their inexperience with enthusiasm and distasteful sounds of approval. But Astoria was still, allowing him to touch her as he pleased, waiting to see and take in how everything felt for the first time. 

True innocence. 

Astoria looked away from him when his hand brushed the zipper of her dress and Draco paused, watching her face. 

“No. Look at me.”

Astoria moved her clear eyes back to his face reluctantly and he dragged her zipper down as slowly as he could, letting the anticipation grow in her. He pushed the dress off of her shoulders and let it drop and pool at her feet, her breasts uncovered and baring to him. Her incredibly pale skin glowed under the light of the moon that was peering in through his balcony doors as he took in her body, looking at it differently than he had before. He wanted her in this moment, to get lost in her, forget all of his demons, and _drown_ himself in this girl. 

His _wife._

Astoria watched Draco’s cool grey eyes, waiting quietly while he undressed her, the silence of the room loud in her ears. She saw something change in them. There was a hunger there. A hunger and longing for _her_ as he took in her body. She let herself breathe as calmness washed over her. He wasn’t going to hurt her. Not in this way. He took her hair down from its secure style, dropping the pins carelessly as he watched her blonde curls fall. She tilted her head back for him slightly when his face came down to kiss her, his lips gentler than the first time she had felt them. She kissed him back without hesitating now, wrapping her arms around his neck timidly. His scent filled her nose as she was letting him take over her senses. His scent was dark and cool and he smelt of pine, eucalyptus, and rich cologne. It dizzied her slightly. 

She felt her body relax completely and she was lost in his deep kiss, her lips parting on their own accord for his tongue that slid over her bottom lip. Draco lifted her into his arms and carried her easily to the bed, not breaking his mouth from hers as he laid her down on it. Astoria shivered at the chilled bedding against her warmed skin and breathed deeply as more of his scent surrounded her, embraced her. She felt his cool hands at her waist and looked down at them as he gently pulled her thin lace panties down past her knees and off of her completely, tossing them aside. Instinctively, Astoria closed her thighs together tightly, how vulnerable she was to him sinking in. 

“No. Part them.”

Astoria wanted to die at his commanding words and she looked at him with begging eyes, her eyes pleading with him not to force her to bare herself to him in such a way on her own movement. Unsurprisingly, his eyes didn’t change and neither did the set of his mouth. Astoria clenched her jaw and forced herself to relax her thighs, parting them just enough to satisfy him as his eyes seemed to drink her in. She felt a warmth rush through her as he looked at her with such desire, her yearning for his approval being satisfied finally. Draco began to undress himself, not taking his eyes from her. She had the urge to look away, to give him his privacy, but remembered his order to look at him and she made herself watch him expose himself to her. Oddly, when he removed his belt and had it bunched in his hand she squirmed slightly and he stopped for a moment, cocking an eyebrow at her. 

“Perhaps another time.” His voice was dark and filled with amusement and she felt herself flush hotter than she thought imaginable and he dropped the belt. He couldn’t possibly mean.. 

Astoria swallowed and pushed the thought from her mind, focusing on his sculpted features. She wouldn’t allow herself to look below his waist directly but she could tell from her peripheral vision that she ought to be very nervous about how small she was. 

He moved towards her and rested his hands on each of her ankles, sliding his hands up until he reached the tops of her thighs. He pushed them further apart slowly and a choking sound escaped her throat as he stared down at the most intimate and private part of her.

“Better.” 

His hands brushed between her thighs and he used his finger to trace dangerously close to where her thigh met her pelvis. Her breath caught as she watched him dip his head down and run his lips along where his finger had been. 

Astoria couldn’t stand it anymore and she threw her arms over her eyes, much too nervous and self conscious to stand watching this. He stopped moving again and she cursed in her head. He didn’t move until she finally dropped her arms down and looked at him again to find his eyes staring into hers, waiting. He resumed the touch of his lips against the inside of her thighs and began planting slow, open mouthed kisses on them when they shifted slightly as her body began to respond and relax again to him. Her eyes closed in pleasure this time and he allowed it, not stopping and her back arched slightly, her thighs shifting a second time. She felt a deep need growing in her, gnawing at her from between her legs. A soft whimper came from her when she felt him sucking right at the base of her thigh, right beside the place that was telling her she needed him so desperately and she felt evidence of her desire escape there. She squirmed, both embarrassed and lustful. He caught her thighs again and prevented her from closing them, not pausing from his activities.

He teased her that way for what felt like an eternity before his mouth moved up from between her thighs to her naval, kissing slowly up her stomach and across her breasts before running his lips across her collarbones, sucking and nipping his teeth harshly over her skin before moving to her neck to repeat the process. 

When his lips were finally on hers again they were much harder, hungrier. Astoria kissed him back with a need she had never known, her arms sliding up his smooth back. Her fingers were light against his skin and she felt him shudder under her hands. She was surprised and pleased that she had brought such a raw reaction from him with her touch. 

When he finally slid inside her there was no pain where she had fully expected there to be, only slight discomfort at the unfamiliar feeling. He was slow and stopped for a while. He ran his lips up and down her jawline and kissed behind her ear before moving again once the discomfort had gone. Affection for him coursed through her and her eyes filled slightly with emotion. She had never expected him to be gentle and so attentive to her. 

She couldn’t think as she was absolutely _consumed_ by him in the next moments. He was everywhere, so close. So unbelievably _close_ , and all she needed was for him to be closer; to give her more of him. She needed more, as much as there was possible. 

_More_ than there was possible. 

She was dully aware of the sounds of pleasure and need coming from her mouth and she was sure if she wasn’t lost in so many new feelings and emotions she would be embarrassed at herself. But she _was_ lost in them, and she didn’t care about being embarrassed as she dug her fingers into his flesh every time he rocked back into her again and again, consuming her more.

_Owning_ her.

Her sounds cut off in a stuttering, breath filled noise as she reached her peak, her thoughts and senses exploding around her. She was vaguely aware of his movements slowing as she swam in her pleasure, his body convulsing slightly as he kissed her neck greedily before moving himself next to her. She could feel her pulse strongly from a place in her body she couldn’t pinpoint exactly as the feelings she had experienced so intensely faded and she heard herself breathing loudly, too loudly for what she normally liked. Astoria waited a few moments to try to catch her breath before attempting to slide off the bed. She was sure he wanted her out and to go to her own bedroom before she fell asleep in his. 

Draco’s hand caught her arm and pulled her back down next to him as he pulled the blankets back and over them. “Go to sleep, Astoria,” he murmured, turning over on his side, his strong and scarred back facing her. 

Astoria settled down beside him with surprised, worn out eyes, more affection bubbling in her throat as she rested her head against his pillow, watching his back. She tried to analyze and replay what all had just happened as she studied the scars, but sleep took her only seconds after laying her head down.


	6. Chapter 6

 

The stirring of the small body next to him woke Draco from his deep sleep and a sort of growl escaped his throat as his eyes flickered open. He stared at the light from the rising sun leaking through his balcony doors through half open eyes as his senses came back to him. 

Had he actually slept through the night?

Draco reached for his wand tiredly and waved the curtains closed so that he and his current sleeping companion were embraced with darkness again. He certainly was not ready to get up yet. Draco rolled over to his other side to find his sleeping wife curled around his pillow, her face shining slightly from the sex they had under the small amount of light that was sneaking into the room. It was hard to remember his previous resentment for the resting girl as he watched her now, looking so at peace and vulnerable. 

Pure.

It was odd for him to wake up next to a woman and not feel irritation that she was still in his space. It was also odd that she had _tried_ to give him that courtesy and he hadn’t allowed her too. He had _wanted_ her to stay. Strangely, she had been a comfort to him that night. He usually wanted nothing more than to be alone, but he had felt different. She didn’t push him. She didn’t prod at him. She didn’t throw herself at him, but she still wanted to please him.

Which she wouldn’t want to if it weren’t for his name. She was only with him for that fact alone.

It was how they were all raised to work, maybe yes, but it did not change the fact. She had wanted his title and she had received it. It was not him who she desired and not specifically him that she wanted to please. That had been evident in how she had acted when he had brought her home for the first time. She was _devastated_ to be stuck with him.

Draco studied her sleeping form for a moment longer before he entered her mind, searching deeply for her earliest memories.

“Mother, I don’t _like_ dancing so I’m _never_ going to be good at it,” Astoria huffed, six years old, distaste in her light colored eyes as she crossed her arms defiantly.

“You do not need to like something to be good at it, Astoria. You will practice and you _will_ improve. I am not above smacking your face in public if your attitude does not end _now._ ”

The little girl grunted but didn’t reply. Freya Greengrass pushed her daughter further into the room where children of many different pure-blood families were practicing formal dance and towards young Theodore Nott. “Here. I’m sure he will be kind enough to show you how to do it properly. Pay attention to him please.”

“I can’t, mother. He’s older than me,” Astoria said, blushing shyly.  
“Learn to deal with it. You will have to dance with much older than him,” Freya told her daughter sternly, looking slightly frustrated at how difficult her child was being.

Astoria scowled and walked to Theodore reluctantly. “Hi. My mother is making me learn to dance and she said you could teach me.. Even though you’re older than me. But it’s okay. Daphne is stuck dancing with Draco and he’s mean and boring. So I think you’re better,” she told him, her voice smaller than when she had spoken to her mother. 

Theodore grinned widely, his eyes shining wickedly. “I like you,” he told her, taking her hands and helping her get into the proper form. “Now just watch what I do. I lead so it makes it easier for you. Ignore the instructor. She makes it seem harder.”

Astoria grumpily tried to follow his lead without putting much effort into learning and her mother began to lose patience from where she was watching on the side. “I know you aren’t _trying_ , Astoria. You are, however, trying my _patience_. I hope you don’t think I was bluffing about smacking you,” Freya snapped at her, walking up to the two children. “The fact that I have to come over here and scold you is embarrassing me! Do you see anyone else’s parents doing the same?!”

“Mother, I told you. I’m not good at it. I don’t see _why_ it matters anyway!”

“Look, Astoria. Look at your sister. You see how well she is doing? She’s better than you. Is that what you want? For your sister to be better than you at everything?” 

“Daphne is not better than me at _anything._ ” Astoria glowered, glancing at Theodore in slight embarrassment.   
“Oh yes she is, and right now she is proving it.”

“But who cares about _dancing_?” 

“All of the parents of suitors in our community care. This young man’s mother cares, and you are embarrassing yourself, and the Greengrass family, in front of him now by being a brat. I will not explain this to you again. If you want a good future you will have to do as your told.” 

“I don’t care about _suitors._ ”

“Your _father_ cares. Would you like me to go get him?” Freya stood up straight as she threatened her daughter, her eyebrows raised. 

Astoria seemed to deflate slightly. “No, ma’am,” she replied, her voice soft now. 

“Then stop talking back to me and do it.”

Astoria turned back to Theodore and pursed her tiny mouth. “Okay, we are going to play a game. It’s called the “Beat My Sister” game.”

Theodore laughed at her and looked over at Daphne dancing with Draco, who the instructor seemed exceptionally pleased with. “I don’t know if that’s a game we can win right now. I like you, but you’re a really bad dancer. Plus, you’re little. It’s hard to be better than someone who has two years on you. Don’t worry though, I won’t tell my mother you were talking back to yours.”

Astoria lifted her chin in the air stubbornly. “I don’t care if she has forty years on me. I won’t let her beat me.”

“Well then you better pay attention this time!”

Astoria giggled sheepishly and nodded, studying his movements carefully before quickly falling into her own rhythm and catching on impressively fast, executing the steps flawlessly for such a young girl. The instructor in the other corner of the room noticed the two and looked at Freya to nod at her in approval. Astoria stopped when the song ended and walked back over to her mother, looking up at her for _her_ approval. “You see, you aren’t really terrible you just weren’t applying yourself. Now go take your sister’s partner,” Freya said, watching Narcissa enter the room.

Astoria gasped angrily and looked over at Draco. “What do you _mean_?! I did what you asked me to and now I’m being punished! What kind of prize is he?!” 

“Hopefully the ultimate one if we are lucky. Now go, and if you don’t stop being a brat in the next few moments I swear to you you will be very sorry,” Freya growled at her. 

Astoria looked at Theodore, who was looking quite annoyed himself, reluctantly before walking over to Draco, smiling innocently at her sister as Daphne glowered at her. Daphne stepped away from her partner and went to her mother irritably, looking slightly defeated. Draco looked at her, bored and disinterested. Astoria took his hands obediently with a polite smile on her face and danced with him gracefully before returning to her mother again where her father had joined her and was watching Astoria with approval. Astoria beamed up at him. 

“Good, Astoria. We are going home in a moment, girls,” Aldrich told Astoria and her sister, escorting his wife over to the adult couples that were chattering amongst themselves. The girls followed behind, only a bit of distance away from their parents. 

“Oh stop glaring at me just because I took your boyfriend away,” Astoria muttered. “You can have him back.”  
“That’s not why I’m glaring. I’m glaring because you’re annoying and nobody likes you!” Daphne growled to her sister under her breath. 

Astoria looked genuinely hurt and offended at her comment. “That’s not true! Theo said he likes me,” she insisted, looking down at the ground. 

Aldrich grabbed his daughter’s arm when he heard her comment and moved her in front of Mrs. Nott. He pushed Astoria slightly in front of him so she knew she was meant to speak to her, impress her.

When Draco drew back from her mind, Astoria was awake and looking back at him quietly. She didn’t look angry at his intrusion, only curious. 

“Well weren’t you quite the brat,” he told her, searching her eyes. “Do tell me, what kind of prize _am_ I exactly?”

Astoria pressed her lips together for a moment. “A much better one than I ever expected,” she told him softly, her eyes affectionate.

Draco didn’t reply as he pushed himself off of the bed. He went to his wardrobe to dress himself, taking note of her blush when he got up and was exposed to her again in full. “I have to go out today. I shouldn’t be long too long. You will stay here. Stay in this room actually, this room has the most wards. Just as an extra precaution.” 

She frowned and sat up, holding the bedding to her chest modestly. “You don’t think we really have anything to worry about, do you?” 

“I do,” he replied without giving any other explanation, buttoning his suit. He left as she opened her mouth to express her worry, ignoring her and locking her in the bedroom. 

Draco arrived at the hidden home his parents resided in and exhaled slowly, fearing for the worst state of his father. He was sure being locked in this place with only his mother to speak to did not help. Though his mother kept him sane, he also had the habit of taking his anger out on her. 

Draco watched as his mother’s head poked out from around the door to the room she was in. A warm smile spread across her face as she came quickly to greet him.“My Draco,” she said, kissing his face. His spirits lifted a small amount at her touch. “It’s so good you are here. Why didn’t you bring your new wife? If you are worried about her knowing our location, blindfold her or anything of that sort. I would like to see my daughter-in-law,” she said, scolding him and swatting at his arm.

“You know why I did not bring her, mother,” he replied quietly, looking passed her towards the room she had come out of. The last thing he wanted to do was bring a young girl near his father in the shape he was in.

“He is doing better, Draco. It will just take time. He is just quite.. Paranoid. It would be better actually for him to get some social interaction.” His mother’s voice was sad as she fiddled with his sleeve, not meeting his eyes. Her sadness made his heart twinge with regret. His mother had no fault in what his family had become.

“Exactly. He is paranoid. The last thing I need is for him to attack my new bride in some conspiracy that she is dead Bellatrix in disguise or some nonsense.”

“Do you like her then? She’s quite smart I believe. Much less horrid than some of those other girls that know absolutely nothing of the true responsibilities of being a wife in our family.”

“She’s.. A wife,” Draco said dismissively.

Narcissa sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, resting her hand on his chest. “Please, Draco. You can’t keep everything to yourself. Holding all of your thoughts and feelings in is not healthy. It’s okay to have someone to confide in.”

“There are more pressing issues to discuss than my romantic relationship with a silly woman, mother.”

“I’m a silly woman, Draco,” his mother said softly, looking up at his eyes.

“Do not try to manipulate me into buying your point by comparing Astoria to you. It is not the same. The situations are not the same. You two are not the same. Father would have never survived this without you.”

“Precisely my point.”

“She’s _not_ you,” Draco said harshly. 

“That does not mean she can’t-“

“All she cares for is the title I have given her. She barely speaks. All she knows how to be is a trophy wife. What she was _bred_ to be,” Draco cut her off, growing more agitated. 

“As that’s all I was bred to be! That’s what we are raised to care about!” Narcissa cried, throwing her hands up in frustration. “And I am sure she thinks that is all she is as well, but that’s _not_ all she is. We are human beings just as our husbands are. You are not a woman. You do not know.”

“You don’t know her-“

“Neither do you,” Narcissa snapped, moving from the hallway to the kitchen. “You refuse to try.”

Draco followed her, shaking his head. Why must she torture him with such nonsense? 

“The first night at the Manor she slept in the gardens. Outside.”

Narcissa’s brow furrowed oddly, grabbing cups from the cupboard. “Ah. Well. That’s an interesting place to sleep, but-“

“Then she was wrapped half naked in Nott’s clothing.”

“.. Well, I do remember those two as children being somewhat friends, and you know Theodore is quite charming, Draco. I am quite sure the situation was not as simple as it had seemed, and knowing you you are not explaining it the exact way it was either.”

“Ah, yes. I saw that she was quite friendly with Nott as a child. She didn’t like _me_ at all actually, the brat she was,” Draco said, snorting. “Actually, what I saw proves that all her and her family cared about was getting her married off, whether she liked me or not, even before she could barely recite the alphabet. You should have seen her parents shoving her at you and the Notts. Leeches.”

Narcissa smiled slightly. “Now, Draco. Do you think it’s fair to be accusing others of being brats when they were children? Do you recall yourself? Remember, my parents and I were “leeches” as well. As you will be if you have a daughter. Besides, I do hope you weren’t rummaging through her head just right after marrying her. It’s very overwhelming and people don’t tend to like that.”

“She didn’t seem to care. She’s brainless, mother. She doesn’t care about anything as long as she’s safe in an expensive mansion with a rich man.”

“Or maybe she wants you to know she trusts you to be in her head,” Narcissa said gently, preparing him a cup of coffee. 

“Or maybe she’s just an idiot like I told you!” Draco exclaimed in exasperation. He needed this subject to be over. Anything else but this.

“You know that isn’t true, and even if you didn’t know I would be offended that you thought so little of my ability to find you a suitable wife. I know you don’t believe her to be brainless. If you wanted brainless I could have given you Parkinson.”

“She is a suitable trophy wife. Nothing more. You should have seen her last night. Practically a storybook image of what Mrs. Malfoy is meant to look like. She almost looked more suited than you, mother,” he said bitterly. 

“You know I meant suitable in other ways as well. I wanted you to have a wife you could love, or at least come close to loving.” 

“Can we move on to what is _important_ now?” Draco said slowly, through his teeth. 

“I grow tired of talking about these new Death Eaters,” she said sighing, handing him the cup of coffee. “Besides, she _is_ valuable in that sense. If she is anything like her father, and she is from what I have seen, she knows a lot about all of us. The Greengrass family is a highly political one and they are powerful in their knowledge of people and they know to how play their cards just right. Even in school Aldrich Greengrass had something over _everyone_..” His mother trailed off, staring at her own coffee she had made.

“Don’t tell me you had sex with my wife’s father, mother,” Draco said dully. “That’s practically incest.”

His mother’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “How dare you! No, I absolutely did _not_ have sex with him, and may I remind you that I am _still your mother_ who you will _not_ speak to that way again!” Narcissa hissed furiously at him.

Draco didn’t reply as he drank the hot coffee, watching his mother add sugar and cream to her own while shaking her head angrily, muttering about how disrespectful of a son she had. It was giving him a sense of comfort to see his mother in a fit that he had witnessed so many of throughout his lifetime.

“As I was saying, have you ever heard anything about that family having many scandals or anything other than a squeaky clean history? No? I thought not. Even though they _did_ have one with their son-“ 

“I wasn’t aware they had a son.”

“Exactly. Though you were never the most observant, Draco, as you were quite self absorbed. Most were aware, but the fact that the matter just.. Disappeared as soon as it happened is odd. The boy was just.. Gone. Disowned. Everything was very hush. Though it’s polite for us to not speak of these things when they do happen, people still normally talk when they do. After my sister was found to be a blood traitor and disowned there was a fair amount of gossip and scandal. Not with the Greengrass son. Why? Because Aldrich knows the right people and knows enough about the right people so somehow it never spread much further than our community and those who knew were too afraid to speak much of it. It’s quite interesting. He’s a very calculated man.” 

Draco shook his head, having a hard time following. “A blood traitor?” 

“Yes! He married a mudblood! Oh, could you imagine? His only heir? I’m sure Aldrich was a terrifying sight to see when that went over. The boy was.. Sixteen or seventeen when he was disowned. I believe Astoria and Daphne were seven and nine. Truly unfortunate. He was a talented and handsome boy and Astoria was rather attached to him from what I remember,” his mother said, an odd look mixed with empathy crossing her face. 

Draco considered this carefully. Perhaps she was right. Astoria _did_ claim to know things and the more he remembered her from growing up outside and inside of school, the more he could remember her lurking about in the shadows. No one had paid too much attention to her. There was quite a bit she might know with her ability to sneak around unnoticed. 

“Perhaps,” Draco mused.

“Perhaps that family is dangerous and could mean terrible things for us,” Lucius growled, limping in behind him, causing Draco to jump slightly. “You had better break that girl, Draco. Break her into a thousand pieces if you have to. Just as long as she’s a whimpering, bloody mess at your feet so she would never betray you to her father. You need complete loyalty.” 

Draco watched his father struggle to come in silently. He was such a different sight than what he had grown up to know with his hair hanging limply by his poorly shaven face and his grey eyes horrendously blood shot. “Father. You are looking better.” 

“Don’t lie to me, Draco,” Lucius snapped, bracing himself against the counter. “And don’t ignore what I said either.”

“Lucius. There is no need to worry about Aldrich coming after _our_ -“

“You will be quiet, Narcissa! I am speaking to my son,” his father spit out, looking at Draco’s mother angrily. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary, father. She is already very submissive to me as it is,” Draco told him calmly and he gave his mother a look, communicating to her that _this_ was why he hadn’t brought Astoria along. 

“You don’t think it necessary,” Lucius said softly, chuckling madly. “The boy doesn’t _think it necessary._ Ha! He knows better than his father now, I see. Tell me Draco, why is it in your sixth year at Hogwarts I received an owl from Aldrich Greengrass that stated ‘Your son is lucky my daughter is quite talented when it comes to memory charms. I doubt he desires it public knowledge when he decides to leave an opal necklace in bathrooms. Perhaps he should tread more carefully before his secrets are exposed to the wrong eyes.’ Explain that to me, Draco, if your precious wife is so _trustworthy_.” 

Draco froze, his breath catching. His mind searched through the happenings of that year, wondering how anyone could have possibly seen him, let alone two people. Draco’s eyes flashed with anger. 

His wife had spied on him.

“Lucius, you didn’t tell me-“

“I don’t have to tell you every damn thing, woman,” Lucius croaked out.

Narcissa quieted, thinking to herself. Draco fumed without speaking at the idea that the stupid girl had been _reporting_ on him to her father through his sixth year or perhaps _more_ for her father to gain leverage on his family and imply a _threat_ to his father. 

The little _snake_. 

“This is good for us,” his mother said slowly. “This is good. This just proves what I have been saying. This could keep us _safe_. The Greengrass family is tied with ours now and I would be surprised if Aldrich didn’t know at least half of the whereabouts of the new Death Eaters-“

“I would be surprised if Greengrass wasn’t leading them himself,” Lucius snarled, his eyes flashing in and out of focus. 

Narcissa pressed her lips together to avoid arguing with her husband. 

“I will take care of the girl,” Draco said coldly, causing his mother’s face to cloud with worry. 

“Draco. Please. Remember what I said. Use your head. Don’t be angry over what she did or might have done. She was doing as she was told, and she did apparently _help_ you. She’s your _wife_ now.”

“The girl is a snake, Narcissa, and you’ve married her to our son. Which is only a good thing because now we have something to hold over Greengrass’s head. To threaten him with. Yes.. We can get whatever we want out of him this way,” Lucius went on, a slow, mad grin spreading across his face. 

Draco kissed his mother on her temple before turning stiffly to leave, ignoring her protests. His jaw ticked and his eyes were dark with fury as he walked away.

Yes, he would take care of her indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Astoria was bracing herself against Draco’s balcony rails and looking out at the property, _her_ property, when she heard her husband’s steps behind her. She stilled, slightly surprised. He had not been gone for as long as she expected him to be. She didn’t move as she heard him approach, his steps slow and careful. She frowned and listened for his breathing when she noticed his tense steps. He was angry. Angry at her? What had she done? She tried to think of the possible things he could be upset at her for. He _had_ told her not to leave his room, which she hadn’t. 

“My father told me something interesting about you today,” Draco said behind her, his voice frighteningly normal, as if he was telling his friend about a new interesting fact he had learned on magical creatures. “He told me that you were quite good with memory charms. Is that true?”

Astoria turned around to look at him, crossing her arms over the casual dress she had made his house-elf fetch her. She pressed her fingers into the skin of her arm in anticipation, studying his unreadable grey eyes. “Yes.. I suppose I am,” she answered, confused by the odd question. Why would Lucius say such a thing? Where had he heard something like that? She was sure he was not looking at her Hogwarts reputation and her teachers’ comments on her school records any time as of late. She supposed he _was_ a bit mad..

“That would have come in great use during my sixth year. I had a mission from the Dark Lord, you see. Actually, as you know, I’m sure. I mean, my failure _was_ the top gossip for a while there,” he continued as he looked at her with mock thoughtfulness, a light chuckle escaping his mouth.

Astoria pressed her lips together, shaking her head slightly at him to tell him she wasn’t following. 

“I was constantly paranoid of being seen. It’s quite stressful always having to look over your shoulder. Especially when you are in a circumstance that would easily catch someone’s attention. The girls’ bathroom for instance,” Draco said, looking past her and at the sky behind her, his eyes changing to something colder. “Tell me, Astoria. If you saw me planting something in the girls’ bathroom, do you imagine you would make a note of it?” 

Astoria’s heart sank and she closed her eyes, slowing her breathing as her pulse sped up. She understood what he was getting at now. 

_He knew._

“Draco, I-“ Astoria was cut off as flashes of her memories came to the top of her thoughts. Memories of her following him, pressing herself along the corridors so he wouldn’t notice her watching him, memories of her writing to her father what she had seen, the memory of her using a memory charm on the young girl who had spotted him in the bathroom. The memories of her duplicating letters from his mother and father that she had taken from, unnoticed to send to her father lingered in the front of her thoughts for a while before dissolving. 

Astoria’s eyes were squeezed shut when her thoughts had returned to normal and he had exited her mind. She was terrified to look at him, frozen in place. She couldn’t feel the ground under her feet in her immense fear.

“So,” Draco began softly, moving closer to her. “You think you can follow me around? Collect secrets for your father to blackmail my family with? Then become my wife as if you weren’t sneaking around my coattails for your own gain? All while reaping the benefits of being my wife after having power over my family for so long? Well, I do believe it’s only fair to have something over your family as well, no?” 

Astoria panicked as he attempted to pull memories of information on the Greengrass family up for show. She blocked him quickly, shutting her mind down to him. 

Draco was quiet for a moment. Deathly quietly. Then he was laughing, laughing so gently it was almost just small puffs of air. The hairs on the back of Astoria’s neck stood up and an ice cold chill ran down her spine. 

He was going to hurt her. 

Suddenly, he was lunging at her. Astoria gasped in alarm and stumbled back instinctively, yelping when she hit the railing hard and lost her balance over it. 

Draco caught her by the throat, holding her tightly and keeping her from falling over the railing and on to the ground many, many feet below them as he cut off her breathing. She choked and grabbed onto his arms, looking at his eyes pleadingly, terrified. 

“Do you think you can keep things from me? Your husband? Your _owner_?” Draco snarled, his fist squeezing harder around her neck, causing her hands to slide up to grip his tightening hand desperately as he choked her painfully. 

_Please, please.._

“You are not a Greengrass any longer. Your loyalty is to me and my family. Which means your previous family’s _secrets_ are free to me as well. You dare believe you can block me from your mind?”

His hateful voice pounded into her head and her vision blurred and tilted, separating images from each other as he squeezed her neck impossibly hard. She tried incredibly hard to hold her composure as she grabbed more desperately at his hand. _It’s okay, it’s okay_. She held her breath all of the time. She could handle this. She just had to stop panicking. 

But _this_ was different. He was absolutely _crushing_ her, not just physically, but the complete hatred radiating off of him was suffocating her much faster than having her air supply cut off. 

Hatred for _her._

“Don’t you understand?” He asked, his voice now silken, calm as his eyes still danced with fury and his grip on her didn’t loosen. Astoria felt herself being lifted painfully by her neck. She felt as though her head might snap off of her shoulders as her body was lifted so her thighs rested on the top of the rails and the only thing keeping her from falling was his choking hold in only one hand. “Your _life_ belongs to _me_ now.”

He dropped her. 

Her scream came out as more of a rasp as a result of him crushing her neck so effectively that the sounds she was able to make were seemingly next to none. Her stomach seemed to fall out of her as she fell from the balcony and time seemed to slow as the air both rushed past her and filled her ears. 

Her body jerked to a halt before she smacked against the stone ground. Astoria’s frame shook hard as a sob bubbled out of her burning throat in her relief mixed with her still existing fear. She gasped for breath, her eyes watering at how difficult it was to breath after his strong hand had damaged her. When she was completely pulled back up to the balcony with his wand he dropped her in front of him about a foot from the marble balcony where she fell at his feet, catching herself with her hands. She was practically _bowing_ to him.

“It would be too easy to let you die. Just another poor, depressed housewife that couldn’t take the loneliness of having all of the luxuries in the world without any work to do whatsoever. So she decided to end her own life,” Draco cooed in mock pity. “I could kill you so, so easily, love. It would mean absolutely nothing to me. I would get a new wife almost immediately and she would be the same pathetic and useless pretty face that you are. That’s how replaceable you are. That is how _meaningless_ you are. You are _nothing_ other than _my_ wife. Your loyalties will _only_ be to me for the rest of your miserable existence and if I catch you forgetting who you are again you can bet your pretty little head that it will be broken against the cold ground below us because the next time I push you off of this balcony you will make the complete fall.” 

Astoria knelt at his feet, tears streaming down her face as his words cut into her so deeply that she wouldn’t be surprised if she was physically bleeding out. “I-I’m s-sorry.. Please..” She tried to plead to him, but her voice was mostly just the sound of breathy rasps. She wanted to explain. She needed to explain. She clutched her throat gingerly and looked up at him, trying to study his eyes through her blurry vision. 

Astoria felt him attempt to enter her head again and this time she didn’t block him, letting him find the magical cloak on her mind that was placed by her father and she moaned in pain as he hit it, clutching her head now instead of her throat. She panted as he backed out only to go back in with full force and she would have screamed if she could have as pain ripped through her scalp, the excruciating pain paralyzing her. She felt his feet move back as the pain of the dark magic hit him slightly as well, but not nearly as much as it had hit her. Tremors shook her whole form as the pain subsided when Draco exited her head, the aftermath leaving her whole body throbbing. She reached for him, grasping at his legs gently, trying to show him she wanted him, wanted his forgiveness, _needed_ his forgiveness. 

“There’s nothing,” she choked out desperately. “Please, there’s nothing that would interest you.. It’s just family information.” She was telling the truth. The information he sought was nothing even she could understand the importance of. People who her father had worked with in secret, family numbers, a jumble of uninteresting secrets. Uninteresting, but still secrets nonetheless. Secrets that her father had wanted protected. Information she had to know in case anything had happened to her parents. 

“If you knew things he didn’t want you or anyone to know then why would he let you know them,” Draco hissed, sounding confused and angry at what he had just experienced. 

“Because I’m meant to know.. As his child.. Please, Draco..”

“You’re a _woman._ ”

“He doesn’t have a son,” she rasped, whimpering again at the pain in her throat. “And Daphne-“ 

She braced herself as she felt him back in her mind, but this time the pain didn’t come. He was after different memories now. 

“Astoria, you brat!” Eight year old Daphne Greengrass shrieked as a small Astoria dumped a cup full of pond water on her head, soaking her hair and her formal dress she was wearing for tea. 

Astoria’s eyes widened innocently but her loud giggle gave away her guiltless act and she sprinted away towards the trees, her own dress kicking up behind her. She didn’t get very far as she was scooped up by a young man with dark hair and similar clear blue eyes to Astoria. He chuckled as she yelped and smacked at him, allowing her to hit him with her small hands. “Let me go! Daphne the Great Pond Monster is coming to _kill_ me, Edric! Put me down at once!” Astoria cried, kicking her arms and legs. 

Edric Greengrass walked back towards the angry Daphne who was marching after them soaking wet, her dress now stained and filthy. “And who might have turned Daphne into the Great Pond Monster?” He asked her, his voice filled with amusement. 

Astoria giggled loudly again and blinked at him. “It’s a _secret_. I can’t tell you!” 

“Oh sure you can. I’m quite good at keeping secrets. It’s a Greengrass trait you know.”

“Exactly, so I can’t tell you because _I’m_ a Greengrass too!” Astoria exclaimed, beaming at him. She looked at the approaching Daphne and screamed, hiding her face in her brother’s chest. “Don’t let her eat me, Edric! Oh look how ugly and scary she is!”

“Let her down so I can have at her, Edric!” Daphne yelled loudly, trying to grab at Astoria’s legs. 

“You both need to stop torturing each other for at least an hour before our mother murders all of us,” he warned. 

“ _I_ did nothing! _She_ did this to me, the terror! It’s always all her fault! Always! Just let me put her out of her misery!” 

“Where is the proof!” Astoria yelled, kicking at Daphne’s reaching hands. 

“Daphne, go ask mother to clean you up before the Malfoys see you. I see them nearly here,” he told the angry child, nodding in the direction of the approaching carriage. 

“Oooo! The Malfoys are going to see you in a muck, Daph! Whatever will become of you!” Astoria said in mock horror, laughing at Daphne’s worried face. 

Edric shushed her, snorting as he attempted to hold in his own laughter as Daphne stomped away angrily. 

Astoria scowled at the approaching carriage. “I hate when they get here first. Mother is always meaner to us around them.” 

“Because she wants one of you to marry their son.”

“Daphne can! I’d rather _die_.”

“I hope for your sake that’s true and Daphne is the one. You have an attitude that will get your little arse beat. You’re not cut out to be married to a Malfoy,” he scoffed. 

“Good! But Daphne might be dead before then. She is _really_ in for it now when mother sees what a mess she is,” Astoria said, smirking at her brother, proud of herself.

“Why are you always getting into mischief? How is there so much evil in this teeny little body of yours?!” He asked, grinning at Astoria and hanging her upside down. 

Astoria screamed and went into a giggle fit, squirming to get away. “You better let me down! I have to hide before tea starts!”

“Oh, no you do not,” Edric snorted, lifting her back right side up and setting her down. “You are not skipping tea.”

“I’ll die of boredom!” Astoria protested loudly, looking up at him with big eyes as if he’d just betrayed her. “The boys always get to play and I have to sit still and pretend to drink tea! It’s not fair!” 

“The _younger_ boys get to play,” Edric corrected her. “Believe me, I get no play nor do I get cookies and tarts as you do.” 

“I’m not even _allowed_ to eat the sweets! Mother says they will make me fat. All of the sweets just sit there for no reason because _nobody_ wants to eat them. What’s the point!”

Edric chuckled again, but there was a slight sadness in his eyes now at her comment. “If you go to tea and stop making such a show of drama then I will get you some sweets for after, alright?” 

Astoria pressed her lips together and looked up at the sky as she considered this. “Hot cocoa too. _Only_ if there are marshmallows.”

Edric smiled and kissed the top of his little sister’s curly head. “Only if there are marshmallows,” he agreed. 

Draco looked down at Astoria who was shaking with sobs at his feet when he pulled himself from her mind. “Mmm. It seems he _does_ have a son, doesn’t he? It seems you are unable to tell the truth,” Draco said coldly as he watched her attempt hold in her sobs as she shook her head violently at his words, denying them.

He knew he was being cruel and unfair. Obviously it would be considered that Aldrich did _not_ have a son as he was disowned. He was also confident she was correct in that he wouldn’t be too interested in whatever information was being blocked from him in her head about her family. It was likely to be the same information he contained on his own as his father’s heir. But he didn’t _care_ that he wasn’t being fair. He was too angry to care. 

What was this magic that had attacked both of them when he had tried to gain information on her family? He had never dealt with such a confusing obstacle. What a dangerous thing to do to perform hardly known, dark magic on your own, youngest daughter’s mind. 

“What was it,” he asked her flatly, pushing her away from him with his foot. 

“I-I don’t know,” she choked out. He could hardly understand her words. “He just.. Made it that way. He tried to do it to more of my memories, but that was all he could manage.”

“Bit of an odd effect for _you_ to be the one who suffers the most. A bit of a length just to mask some basic information.”

She coughed, whimpering and holding her neck again. He watched her flinch in pain as she touched the skin around her throat that was already purpling with the print of his hand.

“You’re a stupid girl to think not to tell me these things,” he spat, shaking his head at how pathetic she looked.   
“I am not stupid,” she responded, her voice practically a whisper. 

“Excuse me?” He asked, raising his eyebrow slowly, surprised at her attempt to defend herself. “You are what I say you are, and I am saying that you are a stupid girl.” 

Astoria didn’t respond, staring down; defeated. He shook his head and turned to leave her there. 

“I am in full loyalty to you. I cannot change what I’ve done, what my father told me to do. I didn’t mean any maliciousness when I watched you. I would never betray you now. I swear to you, Draco. I _am_ a Malfoy and my loyalty is now to my husband _first_ ,” she told him weakly, her voice mournful. “I don’t want you to hate me. I would have told you, but.. I just have a hard time keeping all of my thoughts and memories straight. I don’t.. Think about the things I know. I don’t care. It’s just a habit that was taught to me. To collect information. Believe me, I am yours. I _want_ to be yours. I just want to be a good wife. I don’t care about anything else. You can go through my mind as much as you’d like,” she told him, her voice breaking and wavering as she tried to talk through her desire to weep. 

Draco listened carefully, his anger fading as her words fell over him and his mother’s desperation filled his head. Images of his mother covered in bruises left by his father flashed in his eyes as he stood there with his back to the girl he had just put his hands on. 

“Just _please_ no more.. Not any more.. Not those again,” she begged him desperately. 

“Trying to get that information hurt me as well. As if I’d care to harm myself again,” he snapped. 

“Not that..” 

Draco turned back to look at her. Her hands were clutching her cheeks and her eyes were staring at nothing, broken. She had meant the memories of her brother. The memory had been deep, buried when he had found it, as seemed the rest of the memories of him. He thought of his first impression of Astoria; that her eyes had been filled with hope. Comparing her eyes from when she was a child to now told a completely different story. There was nothing behind them now, only a longing for _something_. 

Draco leaned down to pick her up gently, taking her to his bed and laying her down. An odd and chilled feeling ran through him when she looked up at him with gratefulness in her eyes. 

She was _thankful_ that he hadn’t just left her own the _ground_ he had _dropped_ her on after _choking_ and _degrading_ her. His _wife_.

His wife who had just begged for forgiveness at his feet like a beaten slave. 

Again, he pictured his mother and her words from earlier in the day echoed in his mind as he stared at Astoria’s bruised neck and reddened eyes. She hadn’t tried to fight back once aside from blocking him from something he couldn’t see anyway. His father had demanded that he break her, but there was nothing to break. 

_She was already broken._

Draco sat at the foot of the bed and buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed with his confusing thoughts and emotions. His breathing was ragged and he didn’t know where to start in his stream of thoughts, regrets, and conflicting ideas. This was all too much. 

_Fuck_ , he didn’t know anymore. 

He felt the bed move and he wondered if she was leaving, leaving to return to her own room. Away from him. He wouldn’t stop her. He didn’t want to look at her face. He didn’t want to look at what he had done to her. He froze when he felt her fingers rest on his temples lightly. 

“Does it still hurt?” She asked softly, concern in her broken speech from her damaged throat. Damage _he_ had inflicted. He realized she was referring to the _minor_ pain he had felt from the dark magic that protected her thoughts. The same dark magic that had hurt her much more than himself.

Draco’s mind flashed to when he had watched his mother bandage her father’s bloody knuckles gingerly, her eyes filled with genuine concern and love. Lucius’s hands had been bloodied from hitting the mirrors in the manor in a fit of rage towards Narcissa, whose nose was broken and her head bleeding from the same hands she was ever so gently helping to heal. She had asked her husband if any of the shards of glass had cut him anywhere else. They had cut her, seeing as the side of her neck was bleeding. Lucius hadn’t answered his wife’s worried question and Draco had been helpless, watching them from the crack of the piano room door. He had been angry and confused at why his mother was helping his father after he had violently attacked her, telling her he would destroy every mirror in the house so that she would see herself as worthless as he saw her once he took away her only asset: her pretty face. 

Draco grit his teeth as he pulled away from his own memory, angry at Astoria for asking such nonsense, angry at _himself_ for putting himself in this position he never wanted to be in; his father’s position. 

“I can make you something,” she said, getting off the bed shakily, using her arms to lean her weight on the bed as she studied the distance from the bed to the door. 

“Lay back down, Astoria,” he told her, his voice surprisingly level for what he was feeling. He felt her weight back on his bed and he summoned his house-elf who stared past him and at Astoria for a few moments, its ears flattening. 

“ _I_ summoned you,” Draco snapped, annoyed that the house-elf was pitying his wife that he had marked. Draco sent the servant off to get him his correct potions and he stood from the bed, walking around to her to examine her neck. He ran his fingers over the bruising lightly, feeling her flesh throb beneath his fingers and she winced but didn’t pull away from him. He examined his hand, remembering her hands on it while she had desperately tried to get him to let up on his hold. There were no claw marks on his skin. She hadn’t attempted to fight him back in even then. 

Only a _gentle_ pleading. 

His mother should not have done this. She shouldn’t have tried to give him someone so disgustingly _innocent_ and _sincere._ If he had someone like Parkinson he wouldn’t be in this position. She would have stayed out of his way. She would have spent his money and been the shallow, stupid bitch he knew well and was familiar with. He knew his feelings about her. He knew her. 

He didn’t know Astoria. 

He yanked the potions from the concerned looking house-elf when it arrived and shooed it off, mixing a few drops of them in some tea. He handed her the cup and helped her sit up, noticing how dizzy she seemed. Her eyes were oddly red as well, and not just from tears, but from being choked mercilessly the way she had been. Choked mercilessly by him. He rested the back of his hand on her forehead as if that would tell him anything about the state her head was in. In that moment he accepted his regret. He wanted to express his regret to her. He wanted to _apologize_.

He didn’t. 


	8. Chapter 8

****Draco had not gone near Astoria for the next three days, but he hadn’t sent her from his room either. She couldn’t understand what that meant. She desperately wished she knew where they stood. She would almost prefer being yelled at to being avoided and having him lurk about. She was asleep when he had come to bed, and still asleep when he had left. She didn’t know what he was doing when he left, and didn’t care to know either. The absence of husbands was a normalized aspect of marriage in high-class pure-blood society. That was a given, but it still chilled her to have him avoid her so carefully all while keeping her in the closest living space possible.  
 ****

The difference in Draco from his sixth year to now was considerable. He was now sure in his choices, and he was intentionally cruel, intentionally cruel in a different way than he had been as just a nasty teenager who liked to get a rise out of people and show off to his friends. He had always been cruel, yes, but now he was aware of deeper manipulation and confident in his cruelty. However, he was no longer cruel for sport and that was somehow more unnerving to her because that meant he was cruel in his temper, which made him unpredictable. She didn’t understand his intentions or emotions any longer, and she now doubted that he himself understood them. 

The likelihood of him _ever_ letting her understand them was practically nonexistent. 

Astoria was slightly frustrated with the fact her father had apparently decided to make the knowledge she had given him known to Lucius Malfoy. Had it really been a wise idea to basically wave it in Mr. Malfoy’s face that her father could expose Draco if he so pleased? With full knowledge that Astoria could possibly be marrying him?

It was wise, Astoria knew, her father always was wise in his decisions. She knew he wasn’t simple peacocking for the sake of it. There had been a reason, even if she herself wasn’t sure what that reason had been.

A reason she unfortunately had to pay for. 

She loved her father, but he was not above sacrifice in order to achieve exactly what he wanted. Even if the sacrifices were not his own. Warm and cuddly he was not.

She wondered what it would feel like to go through what she had with Draco if she was someone else. To be the same girl who would be awed by the ring on her finger to also be attacked by her husband. That girl would curl up in fear at the sight of the man that put her hands on her, disgusted at the sight of him. Perhaps she would fight back, demand respect, hurt him back. Perhaps she would go home to her parents, seeking an end to the marriage. 

Pure-bloods did not end their marriages. 

The traditional magical marriage ceremony that bound them together in itself was nearly impossible to get out of as it was, as well as it being simply unheard of and against what her people believed in to _separate_ over _simple_ matters such as _abuse_. 

Yes, the girl who would be mesmerized over the apparent luxuries that lie behind her new title would become unhinged at the violence that Astoria had experienced. 

Astoria was not that girl. 

She supposed she was both stronger and weaker than that girl depending on who would look at it. She was weaker in the sense that she allowed herself to be treated as practically a slave and still seek her husband’s affections. She was stronger in the sense that she could withstand such hardships and still have her head held high and be prepared to take on the life she _herself_ had asked for and she _herself_ had wanted even with full knowledge of what was to come to her.

_Was_ her head held high? 

She was just _not the same_ as that imaginary girl she compared herself to. She never would be. It would be a waste of effort to pretend to be someone different, to pretend to have _pride_ when it came to something like this. She did have pride, she did, but it came at different times and in different circumstances. 

In this life she could only accept who she was and who she was raised to be and make the best of it. She envied that girl who would act _appropriately_ to such a situation just as that girl probably envied her, but it did not matter. They weren’t the other and there was no point in sulking about it or trying to charade as the other.

Astoria feared Draco just as much as she did when she stepped in to the manor. Her fear had not changed much once he had actually harmed her. It was unfortunate, but it was expected. Violence had not been what Astoria had feared the most out of her marriage to Draco Malfoy. What Astoria feared more than bruises was not having anything at all. 

Emptiness. 

She was beginning to realize that she had been fearing something that already was. Her whole life was filled with absolutely nothing besides distractions of effort to end up exactly where she was now. 

The winner of _nothing._

She could resent Draco and blame him for the darkness she was beginning to feel, but the darkness had already been there. She had just been telling herself otherwise, telling herself that there was always something more she could do to get what she wanted, telling herself that she had been chasing a light, a light that never existed. 

No, no. Perhaps it _did_ exist. She could not become _completely_ pessimistic. If she wanted to survive and not become another pity story over tea of another bride that threw herself off of the balcony then she could not think that way. She would have children. Though, admittedly, it was hard to look forward to children when they would be placed in the same cycle she had been a part of, as her parents did, as her grandparents did, and on and on.. 

The competition for nothing. 

She cursed her husband more for exposing the memories she _hated_ than the physical pain he had put her through. The ones she tried so _desperately_ to block out. The ones that made her remember just how useless and empty everything was. Everything was just like those sweets that were put out for show that no one ate in fear of ruining their precious figures that made them worth something because their minds _certainly did not_. 

_What was the point?_

There wasn’t one. There never was. Just an endless cycle of emptiness masked as something glamorous. 

Astoria’s mind fell on the memory of her brother that Draco had uncovered and she grabbed a pillow quickly, sucking in all of her breath before screaming into it. She desperately pushed at her thoughts, thoughts of him, pushing them away.

_No, no, no._

No, she had _no_ brother. No brother would just _abandon_ her. No brother would just allow himself to be stolen from her by someone who _didn’t deserve him_. 

_Enough._

She forced her mind to stop, blanking it out. No more. She coughed slightly, touching her throat. Her neck was mostly healed, but there was still a tickle there. Draco was quite good with healing potions. He could be a healer actually. Astoria’s lips twitched at the thought, imagining the _gossip_ and _scandal_ that would surround such a job for a man such as Draco Malfoy. Oh she could just see Lucius Malfoy’s face now.

She jumped when her eyes caught sight of him in the room, watching her. She hadn’t seen him come in. “Good evening, Draco,” she told him, clearing her throat. 

He nodded, watching her with a guarded expression. “Is there something on your mind?” It had been the first time he had spoken to her since he had gotten so angry at her, since he had hurt her. Since he had made her _remember._

Did he see her scream?

“Ah.. I was just thinking about how good you were with healing potions. I knew you were talented in Potions class, but normally healing potions are on the more dull side of the subject. Students don’t typically desire to spend much time learning and perfecting them,” she told him, looking down at her lap. She probably had looked so ridiculous screaming into a pillow and then smiling to herself like a lunatic.

“My mother always needed healing, and it was the only thing I could do to help her; help with the aftermath,” he told her stiffly. 

Ah..

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes and Draco went to his balcony doors, staring outside. She could almost hear the dust particles moving in the air with how silent they both were. “I don’t-” he began shakily, his voice breaking through the quiet before cutting off for a few more moments. 

Astoria waited, she hadn’t heard him speak in such an unsure way since they had been at Hogwarts together. 

He sounded _vulnerable._

“I don’t want my children to have to deal with the aftermath. I don’t want there to be any aftermath,” he continued finally, quietly. 

Astoria’s breath caught and she held it for a moment, going over his words again slowly. She realized this was his form of an apology. His way of telling her he didn’t want to hurt her again. He didn’t want to hurt her like he had watched his mother be hurt. Astoria watched his back for a few moments, relaxing her tense shoulders and breath flow. His words did not fix who he was or what they were, what he _did,_ but it reminded her that he was human.

“Draco?” she said softly after she had allowed more silence to hang in the air after his confession. 

“Mmm?” 

“I’m not stupid,” she said, repeating her only fighting words from on the balcony, her voice stronger now. 

Draco turned to look at her, his eyes searching hers. “No,” he said after a while, his voice sounding tired. Breaks of silence seemed to be a trend in their conversations. “You aren’t. I suppose projection is another trait I seem to have inherited from my father.” 

_Projection._

He was calling _himself_ stupid, she realized. She knew he wasn’t stupid at all, but she didn’t know what to reply back to him. He wasn’t stupid. He was lost as was she, probably more so. Draco wasn’t innocent, no, but neither was she. They had always done what they were _told_ , which didn’t excuse their actions, no, but it still was true. Draco’s sins were different than her own, but she could not sit there and act like she had none. Through this they had the ability to understand each other, and that gave her a small amount of hope that one day they could. She wanted to understand him in ways he didn’t understand himself, as she wanted him to understand her how she was too afraid to understand herself. 

They needed each other. 

“Aurors are visiting the homes of families that were close to the Dark Lord or his followers,” he said, changing the subject. “I expect them to interview you, which I’m sure you will do fine with. Obviously we don’t have anything to hide as we have not been involved with the uprising, no?” 

Astoria tilted her head at the slight tone of implication in his voice. “Of course not. My family has always thought very little of the Death Eaters.” 

Draco gave a short, humorless laugh. “Right. However, we need to give the impression that we are _both_ unaware of where my parents have gone. You don’t know where they are which is good, but you know that I know where they are. The Ministry has been lenient in not throwing our family in Azkaban for our involvement in the war, but if they saw the state of my father I’m sure they would quite happily throw him in the mental hospital where he would rot without my mother. I am sure they will ask for the whereabouts of your family as well.” 

“I truly don’t know where they are.”

“Good. It will be easy then. Well, easy as it can be with people I _despise_ interrogating me and my wife,” he said irritably, pouring himself a glass of wine. 

“My father has a good relationship with the Ministry, so I am sure it won’t matter anyway,” she told him, unconcerned. 

Draco snorted. “Aha. From what I’ve learned about your father it sounds that the Ministry and him have an _arrangement_ in that if they try to fuck him over he will fuck them over first.” 

Astoria giggled, causing Draco to jump slightly, seeming surprised at her sound. “Yes, I suppose that is the more correct explanation. My father does _know things_ about almost every single one of them I’m sure. Damning things too. Always damning things. They act so much better than us don’t they?” Astoria said, shaking her head and looking up at the ceiling. “So self-righteous when they compare themselves to us. Like they can do _no wrong_ compared to the evil and _backwards_ pure-bloods. They do the same things that they look down on us for doing, but only in secret. But, I suppose that’s what is always natural when coming from your own perspective; to think only yourself the ultimate right.” 

Draco dipped his head towards her in a silent agreement and sipped his drink, staring out at nothing for a while. “When I was a child my mother would take the untouched sweets from the tea when she hosted it here at the Manor. She would sneak it into the piano room.”

Astoria watched him curiously, surprised at his random and completely off-topic recollections. “She would wait until my father had left to do whatever it was he did when he left and she would take me in there with her and share them with me. She would eat them herself as well. She would eat many actually. More than you would guess my mother to eat.”

Astoria smiled to herself, taking pleasure in knowing the perfect Mrs. Malfoy she had grown up watching indulged herself occasionally after all. 

“Once I stole all of the sweets after tea was over. I gathered them all in my skirts and ran to my bedroom and locked myself in my closet. I thought that if I ate them all and made myself fat like my mother had always warned me about then my mother wouldn’t take me out in public for a long time. This way, I would be able to avoid the dreaded tea. I ate _so_ much,” Astoria told him, holding her stomach for effect, practically feeling the sickness she had felt that day. “I vomited everywhere. I could barely even look at sweets for years after, and still don’t crave them. The worst part was I did not gain one little bit of weight. No, actually, the _worst_ part was my mother’s elated reaction. You should have seen my mother’s smug face. She just _laughed_ and laughed at me, rubbing it in my face that my brilliant plan had failed. Oh, it was horrible.”

Draco stared at her for a moment before he started snorting with laughter, looking at her like she was ridiculous. She blinked, shocked at his laughter. Such an unexpected sound to come from him. “It’s not funny really,” she insisted. “It’s also not fair that your mother shared the sweets with you. You didn’t have to sit through the tea.” But Astoria was laughing as well. It was a bizarre feeling, to be here laughing with Draco Malfoy, her _husband_. To be laughing at all actually, authentically at least. Astoria thought of that girl again, the girl who would have ran for the hills at being physically abused by this man. That girl would never be here, laughing about something as lighthearted as this only days after such an incident. Laughing with him. 

He didn’t deserve her laughter.

He didn’t deserve her forgiveness either, but she supposed she had not holding anything against him to begin with. The only one who had was her imaginary opposite she had created in her head. There was nothing to forgive him for when there was no resentment there to mend. 

The only resentment she had was for herself and the fact that she didn’t have enough respect for her own self to react appropriately to what he had done to her. 

Draco watched his wife’s laughter die down and she seemed to lose herself in thought. He was sure she was wondering why the fuck she was finding any sort of enjoyment here with him after what he had done to her, what he had _said_ to her. He decided that he was disappointed when she stopped laughing and her smile faded. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so carelessly, and he was sure it was similar for her. Laughing at the ridiculousness of their lives. He had seen a trace of the girl in her memories, the one with the great spirit. 

He wanted to see her laugh more. 

He was an idiot. He was an idiot to care about such things when their lives had come to _this_. He was an idiot to care about such things after he had abused her, degraded her, and threatened her life. His _wife’s_ life _._ He was an idiot to care about such things when Aurors were about to be in his home, interrogating them about the real things that mattered in the world at the moment, not his romantic life. 

But, what else _did_ matter without his family? What did surviving mean if he wasn’t living? Astoria _was_ his family now. 

“Why have you left me in here if it seems that you don’t want to be around me?” Astoria asked him, breaking him from his tormented thoughts.

“This room has the best wards. I told you that,” he told her dismissively.

“I thought you said I was replaceable. So what would it matter if I was a bit less safe?” 

Draco paused, listening to the tone of her voice. There was bitterness there instead of the hurt he would have expected. He supposed bitterness made more sense. She had _worked_ to be the one to come out on top as his wife. She had _earned_ the title of irreplaceable. The titlehe had denied her. 

“I thought you said that you would rather die than marry me,” he answered casually, sipping his drink while he remembered her words that she had said so confidently as a child.

Astoria pressed her lips together, looking slightly annoyed and amused at the same time. 

“I can sleep when you’re in my bed,” he told her quietly after a few moments. It was true. Since the war, he had only been able to sleep at most a few hours at a time. Yet, he had slept through the night once she was there. 

“And what about the girls you have sex with?” She asked.

“Pardon?” He asked, surprised at such an out of the blue and inappropriate question coming from her.

“What about when they sleep in your bed?”

Draco shook his head, watching her for a moment. What was she on about?

“Can you sleep when they're in your bed?”

“No.”

“I see. So you lied,” she said quietly. “I’m not replaceable.” 

Draco watched her, fighting a smirk at her daringness. “As did you,” he replied. “Not only are you still alive and married to me; you did everything to be married to me.” 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Astoria came out from Draco’s bathroom, freshly bathed. She found him already in his bed, curiously working on a magical puzzle box. He paused to look at her, his grey eyes studying her’s carefully before falling on her neck. Draco set his box down, getting up from the bed and going to her. Astoria stilled impulsively, watching his eyes when he reached up and brushed his fingers lightly over her neck. His hands were oddly smooth for a man’s hands, and he knew how to touch so incredibly lightly that it seemed only the very top layer of his skin graced hers. The bruises on her neck had nearly cleared completely, but there were still light traces of color left on her throat. “Does it hurt you still?” he asked her, his eyes unreadable as he went over the bruises slowly. 

Always unreadable. 

“No, not really. It’s only slightly uncomfortable. Your healing potions are very good,” she told him, still frozen under his touch, barely breathing.

“Obviously not as it’s been days,” he said, his eyebrows twitching with agitation. 

“You’re very strong,” she told him quietly, remembering just how hard he had squeezed her. His potions _were_ good considering the damage.

“Maybe it’s you who is weak,” he said, but his voice was gentle and his eyes that had moved back up to watch hers were thawed from the usual coldness they held. He dropped his hand, handing her the nightgown she had laid out for herself before returning to the bed and picking his puzzle box back up.

“I believe it’s both,” she breathed, slipping into the nightgown quickly in an attempt at modestly. Astoria slowed her movements when she realized Draco wasn’t actually watching her, but instead focusing on the little puzzle box. She turned from him to look in the mirror as she brushed her wet hair, studying her faintly marked neck, her thoughts wandering. She braided her hair after applying her moisturizer to her face and went to get into the bed, shyness and uncertainty falling over as she got into it next to him. He hadn’t been around the past nights when she had entered the bed. He didn’t look up from his box when she joined him and she watched his long fingers move over it thoughtfully, his eyes focused. She admired how sure and deliberate his movements always were. “My grandmother loved those,” she murmured after watching his elegant hands move over the object for a few minutes, the same way she had watched her grandmother. 

“Funny.”

“I wasn’t meaning to tease you for acting like an elderly person,” Astoria said, smiling slightly. “I just haven’t seen one since I used to see her play with them all of the time.” 

Draco made a sound of acknowledgment as his grey eyes moved quickly as he concentrated. She didn’t mind his silence at the moment; she enjoyed the sound of his hands moving over his toy and the calmness in the room.

Astoria fell asleep watching his careful hands work on the puzzle. 

Draco looked down after a while of shutting off his loud thoughts to his puzzle box to look at his sleeping wife. She was facing toward him, her small body curled comfortably at his side and her braid of long hair was draped over the side of her neck, hiding the evidence of his cruelty. He thought of how when he had touched her there, in the same place he had hurt her, she hadn’t flinched. She didn’t pull away from him. 

It was wrong. 

It was the wrong reaction. It should be natural to recoil from something that had previously caused you harm. She was just so trained. Trained to allow him to do touch her when he wanted to, no matter what the circumstances or how she felt. Draco set the box down on his bedside table and slowly sank down to lay next to Astoria who was oddly close to him, facing her so he could study her. Selfishly, he hadn’t been avoiding her the past few days just out of mercy to give her space from him. He had avoided her so he wouldn’t have to see her lay tense, facing away from him when he joined her in bed or flinched when he raised a hand near her. 

Now, he wasn’t sure which reaction unnerved him more. 

The fact that she wasn’t shrinking away from him and the fact that she wasn’t laying on the edge of the bed but instead close to the middle and close to _him_ wasn’t because she loved him or cared for him; it was because of acceptance, normality.

Draco shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts so he could rest. The rest that his wife somehow allowed him to have. 

He woke up before she did, as he usually did. He had noticed that she was both a heavy sleeper and a late riser. Quite the opposite of him, and quite the opposite of what a wife should be, but he liked it this way. He wasn’t considerate enough to be quiet when coming to bed to not wake a light sleeper and he preferred not to be bothered with as soon as he woke up. He looksd at her face. Her mouth was now slightly open and her braid was now messy on top of his pillow from stirring in the night. Draco got up from the bed to dress himself, growing irritated already for what was to come in the next few hours. He was sure there would at least be one of his _beloved_ trio there to poke and prod at him as well as his home. 

Draco checked the time and cursed. It had been much later in the morning than he had expected. 

“Astoria,” he snapped loudly, causing her to stir. “Up!” 

He left the room to send the house-elf to open the Manor entrance to allow the Aurors in. 

Astoria woke to Draco’s agitated voice and rose slowly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She yawned and stared off for a few moments before checking the time tiredly, blinking to see more clearly in surprise. 

_How_ was she meant to get ready in that amount of time?

She scrambled out of bed quickly, grabbing a dress from the small stock she had brought to Draco’s room in one hand while trying to take off her nightgown with the other. She threw on the first pieces jewelry she saw on herself and went to the bathroom to wash her face and put her hair up, quickly adding the light amount of makeup she wore daily to her face. She left the bathroom before stumbling into her heels and left the bedroom, swiftly walking down the manor steps. She began to make the sitting room presentable, flustered. She had always had Daphne to wake her when she needed to be up at a reasonable time. She ordered the house-elf to go to the bakery she frequented to get some cakes and pastries to set up tea in the gardens, figuring she would be interviewed by a woman as that was usually the route they took when it came to these things. 

Draco stalked angrily into the sitting room as she was preparing coffee. “No. I don’t want to _accommodate_ them as if they are _guests_ ,” he spat, looking disgusted at her efforts. 

Astoria looked at him calmly. “I hate to disagree with you, but they _are_ our guests. It is in our best interests to treat them as such.”

“How horribly _political_ of you. Yes, I know how politics work, and I am choosing to _not_ act as if I respect them. I cannot stomach it,” he said flatly and Astoria pressed her lips together, considering how to argue with him without angering him.

“My mother does that when my father is saying something foolish,” Draco said coolly, referring to her mouth.

“Well. Good thing I am not your mother then,” she said, not sure how to respond to the comment and not sure if he was implying that she thought him foolish and this were some sort of test. 

“Mmm.”

“I believe this is the best route to take, especially if we don’t want them sticking their noses too far into our lives,” she insisted. “No offense intended, Draco, but your father was never very good in that aspect. He was incredibly transparent of his distaste for most of the Ministry. Fortunately, your poker face is not as terrible as his.” She was pushing it, but it was necessary. 

Draco’s face was cold and unreadable again as he said nothing.   
“Yes. Just like that.” 

Draco scoffed at her and sat in the armchair, allowing her to finish what she was doing, his eyes going unfocused as he thought. Draco didn’t move when knocker sounded and Astoria left him to open the door to the Aurors, plastering her best fake welcoming smile on her face as she ushered them in, sending their coats to coat closet with her wand as she led them to the sitting room. She introduced herself and Draco, who still hadn’t moved nor did he attempt to when she introduced him. He was going to make this difficult indeed. Astoria sat in the armchair next to her husband after sitting them in the chairs in front of them, studying the Aurors. There were four Aurors including Hermione Granger who was the only woman, and Astoria only recognized one of the three men from Hogwarts. 

“We are going to speak to both of you separately,” one dark skinned man stated as Astoria prepared each of the men a cup off coffee. The other two men grumbled their thanks when she gave them theirs. “Mr. Malfoy, you will talk with us. Your wife will speak with Ms. Granger outside of this room. Or, we can speak to _you_ outside of this room. Your choice.” 

Draco said nothing as he stared back at them and Astoria smiled at Granger who was looking slightly uncomfortable at her surroundings. Astoria was surprised she had come at all. Surely there were other female Aurors that didn’t have such a history with Draco and his home. Astoria cleared her throat, glancing at Draco before she stood, waiting for Granger to stand as well. Astoria led her out to the gardens where the prepared tea awaited, the teapot steaming. She motioned to the chair at the small table before sitting in the one across from it, waiting for the girl patiently. 

“Thank you..” Granger checked the file she was holding as she sat down. “Astoria.”

Astoria tilted her head thoughtfully. “My pleasure, Hermione.”

Granger looked surprised but guarded at her and she looked back down at the file. “Congratulations on your recent marriage. I trust all is going.. Well.” Ah, she was horrible at acting like she wasn’t completely uninterested in making small talk. 

“It is going as well as it can be.” 

“Well.. Aren’t you happy?” 

“Happy,” Astoria repeated slowly, considering this. “I achieved my goal.”

Granger’s brow furrowed at her reply, looking confused on how to respond. A terribly awkward thing she was. “Good then. Your new home is lovely,” she told Astoria unconvincingly, nodding. 

“Thank you, but I don’t think you like it,” Astoria replied, looking at the large, intimidating Malfoy Manor. 

“No. I don’t,” Hermione said, her voice sounding more sure than before. “But I can appreciate the architecture.” 

Astoria kept her polite smile, watching her expectingly as she waited for her first question. No need to torture this uncomfortable woman with more with small talk. 

“Mrs. Malfoy, are you aware of the new uprising of Death Eaters?” Granger started, reading from the file she was holding.

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Malfoy, are you or your husband _involved_ with these new Death Eaters?”

“No.”

“Mrs. Malfoy, are you aware that your husband, in the past, _was_ a Death Eater?”

“Yes.” Astoria fought to roll her eyes at the silly question. Even if it wasn’t a plainly known fact that the Malfoy men had been Death Eaters; she had seen Draco naked for Merlin’s sake. The Dark Mark was not something that disappeared with the Dark Lord’s death, it only lightened under the skin. 

“Mrs. Malfoy, did you approve of Voldemort and his Death Eaters before his death?”

“No.”

Granger stopped, giving her a slightly unamused look. “I understand that you are attempting to put on a show of civility, Mrs. Malfoy, but please answer the questions honestly. Yes, I am a muggle-born, but I am a big girl and can handle not getting in a quarrel with you if you tell me you supported Voldemort.”

“Alright,” Astoria said, nodding. “My answer still remains the same.” 

“Well if that is true then why are you married to Malfoy?” 

Astoria laughed gently, shaking her head. “We do not marry each other over morals.”

Granger shook her head and looked back down at the file, her eyes already looking fed up with their conversation. “Fine. Mrs. Malfoy, are you aware of anyone besides you or your husband involved in the new forming group of Death Eaters.” 

“No. Must you read off of that paper like that? We can speak as normal acquaintances, I hope you realize,” Astoria said, pouring them both a cup of tea. 

Granger considered Astoria for a moment before resting the file in her lap, taking the tea. “Alright. If not morals, then why do you marry? Money?” 

“No, not money. We all _have money_. I suppose there are a few families who care to have _more_ money, but my family had quite a bit of money as it was. The men for some reason can’t seem to grasp this either, as the women in our circle are often called gold diggers. Why would I have to dig for gold if I already have it? Silly. I suppose the simple explanation to the question would be status,” Astoria explained, after looking out at the sky as she thought of her answer.

“Status from whose point of view exactly?”

“Ours. The pure-bloods. The pure-bloods expanding to other countries as well. You see, you and your people may see the Malfoys as a family that has fallen, but-“

“ _My_ people?” She interrupted, searching Astoria’s face. 

“Like-minded people,” she replied, nodding. “You may see the Malfoys as fallen, but to our people they are still quite high in ranks when it comes to pure-blood status. We do not care what _you_ us as, as we see your people as inferior and somewhat outside of our world.” 

Granger shifted, her expression hardening. “You advised me to be truthful, and that is the truth. Just as you see us as inferior, do you not? You believe us morally below you. You look _down_ on us, just as we look down on you.”

Granger shook her head. “It is not the same.” 

“It’s not the same, no, as both sides have completely different views of the world and practices which make the circumstances different. However, it doesn’t change the fact that both sides look down on the other.”

She considered this for a moment, a slight scowl on her face. “I.. Pity you. I don’t think you _inferior_.” 

“And pity is one of the furthest things from respect I can think of.”

“Well, it isn’t as if you respect me.” 

“I do. I believe you’re very intelligent, and I think you’ve made the best of what you were given in life, which is all anyone can do,” Astoria told her honestly, watching her eyes. 

Granger watched her, a frown on her face. She seemed to be deciding if she believed her or not. Astoria noted her posture, it was much better than most of the girls she had seen at Hogwarts that hung around Harry Potter’s circle, but it still was poor. She could hardly imagine the puffing and fussing of her mother if she had the same posture.

“The Malfoys failed Voldemort. Voldemort mocked them openly,” she said, going back to their previous subject. 

“Yes, but not all pure-bloods were Death Eaters or agreed with the war. I’m sure families of other Death Eaters have their opinions about that, but that doesn’t effect status. It’s only slightly embarrassing.” 

“Your family didn’t agree with the war?”

“No. My father always scoffed at the idea that the Dark Lord was a half-blood demanding pure-bloods to follow him.” 

“Ah. So the disagreement was about blood status. Not about the fact that Voldemort was responsible for the slaughter and ruin of so many innocents,” Granger said flatly. 

“Well, slightly that too. We find importance in blood, but many families aren’t interested in getting their hands dirty or bothering themselves with putting the work in to rid the world of all who are inferior. That would take far too much time, and given the abundance of you; impossible. We stay in our world, and you stay in yours.”

“So I’m sure people like me bother you because of my past relationship with a Weasley.” 

“A Weasley?” Astoria asked, snorting slightly in her amusement, covering her mouth. “The Weasleys are blood traitors. On top of _that_ , they are poor and classless. There are so many appearances, mannerisms, requirements, _rules_ that have to be kept in order to remain in decent status. There is a system in place that Weasleys simply would never be able to work in. The Weasleys are a part of the _you_ side, and would be even if you did not exist.” 

Hermione shook her head. “Why?” She asked her broadly, asking her to answer the same question that had been thought so many times by herself.

_What was the point?_

“It just how it is and has been for a very long time and will be that way for a very long time.” 

She was quiet for a while before she picked up her file again, writing down some notes as Astoria waited patiently. She was sure it was much more difficult for Granger to sit and speak with her than the other way around. 

“You’re so young,” she said softly after a while, staring at the file, _pity_ in her voice. “Only at the end of sixteen.”

“I’m well aware of my age,” Astoria replied stiffly, her polite tone strained. She did not need this woman’s pity.

Granger watched her, shaking her head and drinking her tea. She looked at her again before staring at her neck as anger and alarm filled her eyes, saying nothing for a few moments as she stared in horror. “You can report him,” she began coldly. “Report him to me now, press charges, and I can arrest him. He cannot _assault_ you, husband or not.” 

Astoria cursed herself in her head. _This_ was why only having minutes to get ready was a terrible idea. She touched her neck, looking away from the Auror modestly to put on a show. “Oh, _this_. Well. We _are_ newlyweds. A lot of new ways to.. Experiment,” Astoria implied. 

“I don’t believe you! _That_ does _not_ look as simple as _rough sex_!” Astoria cringed visibly at her wording. “Astoria, that is _wrong_ ,” Granger stressed, leaning forward across the table and searching her eyes; more pity. 

“Yes, I understand you have very strong opinions about what is wrong and what is right,” Astoria said smoothly, keeping her polite expression. 

Granger looked distraught as she added notes, seeming to scribble them out and write them again. Astoria studied her carefully.

She took a deep breath before starting again. “Can’t you.. Can’t you go to your parents? Tell them? Marry a different oh so important pure-blood man of _status_?”

Astoria had to hold her breath to contain her laughter stuck in her throat. _This_. This was how _that girl_ would react. That girl she always thought of in her head. She simply shook her head, taking a drink of her tea, an amused expression on her face. 

“He doesn’t _own_ you,” she said slowly, looking at her even more intently, talking to her as if she was hard of hearing or a difficult child. 

Again, Astoria simply looked at her.

Granger shook her leg, which was incredibly impolite, looking deep in thought as she seemed to decide where to take this conversation. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Astoria. There are men, _real_ men, who don’t have to-“ 

“Real men? Who? Real men like the ones in your house at Hogwarts? Or perhaps any of the ones apart from mine? The ones who would call me a brainless doll? Pure-blood whore? Slytherin “fuckmeat”? “Oi, you reckon this one takes lessons on how to give head for when she marries one of those wealthy gits? Think she’ll practice on us? Think she touches herself to the thought of money?” Believe me, these quotes are exact as they let me hear every word as they spoke about me _as if I weren’t there_ because that’s just how _little_ they thought I was worth. That’s how _little_ they respected me. Or perhaps real men such as the ones who actually _did_ put their hands on me; smacked my backside in the halls, pushed me up against walls, blocked me in corners or extra classrooms to harass and torment me because why not? Why respect me? I was just a stupid, mindless future trophy wife was I not? I wasn’t a human being, and I’m _especially_ not one now. Not to your people. Either it’s belittling me with pity as if I’m some incapable weakling with no control over my own thoughts or actions or it’s degrading me in other ways like how those _real men_ of yours would degrade me. Not just me, I’m not special. _All_ of the “pure-blood sex holes” received the same gentlemanly treatment. Really, are you just completely unaware that not everyone on your “light” side is perfect and good? _Men are men._ ” 

Granger was silent, watching her with a slight taken aback expression on her face. “Of course I know that not _everyone_ from my house or other people from.. My side is good, but the majority are _much_ better than-“

“The majority?” Astoria asked, cocking her head to the side slightly and smiling. “Alright, Hermione. Please, when you see Ron Weasley again. Mention me. My name. Well, of course not my name. Of course the gold digging trophy wife doesn’t have a _name_. Try “Malfoy’s new wife”. See what he has to say.” 

“No matter what he would say. It doesn’t change the fact that abuse is wrong, and you don’t deserve it. You don’t _have_ to take it.” 

“There are many things _I_ have done and many things that _I_ think that would be wrong to you,” Astoria said, watching Granger deal with her frustrations. 

“That’s different. You aren’t beating women. You were raised to think the way you do. You were raised to think that what he did and will do is _okay._ ” 

“And how do you think Draco was raised to think?” 

“Again, it’s not the same.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman? Now Granger, I believed you a strong believer of gender equality. Please, don’t pity me, and if you must; pity both of us. Do not excuse one of us without the other. Do not excuse me and what you see is wrong about me while not excusing what you think is wrong about Draco. His brain isn’t any more capable than mine,” Astoria said softly. “I’m not stupid, Hermione.” 

Granger seemed to deflate slightly, her eyes looking tired. She probably thought of Astoria as a stubborn toddler; impossible to teach anything to. She took another drink of her tea and looked down at her file, staring at it for a while. “Do you know where your husband’s parents are?” 

“No, unfortunately I do not. I rather enjoy Narcissa’s company,” Astoria answered, frowning. Granger nodded as she wrote in her file again, letting out a long breath and grabbing a cake from the display tray, taking a bite of it as she wrote. A small alarm in Astoria’s head went off at the unusual site and she stared, blinking. “I do envy you for this,” Granger said, looking around at the set-up. “It would be quite nice to get together with friends once a week or so and have tea like this.”

And with that, Astoria couldn’t hold in her laughter.


	10. Chapter 10

 

Granger stopped writing to look up at Astoria, looking confused at her laughter. “What is it? Are you laughing at me?” She asked her before there was a loud crack and both girls jumped nearly out of their chairs, looking in the direction of the sound. 

“What in the bloody _fuck_!?” Blaise Zabini exclaimed from where he had appeared, slightly far from them, stumbling back and tripping over a bush and falling into it. Astoria blinked, tilting her head as she resettled herself in her chair. What was this? 

Ah yes, she had added her own ward.. 

Blaise stood up angrily, kicking at the bush in his small fit. He turned to look at Astoria, throwing his arms in the air slightly. “Well?” he yelled to her angrily. 

“I added a ward. I suppose I forgot to clear you, Blaise,” she called to him, frowning apologetically. The fact that he was cleared for Draco’s wards must have been why he was able to get through hers at all. She was surprised he wasn’t more hurt.

Blaise shook his head in irritation and looked around. “Theo was coming along with me. Who knows where _he_ ended up on this property that expands practically from here to Egypt,” he bit out. 

“Ah.. Well. I would believe him inside actually,” Astoria called again, her voice slightly sheepish. 

Blaise blinked, looking at her incredulously before walking over to her, the dirt and pieces of bush that covered him falling from him as he walked.

“And why would that be?” 

“Well. I was quite tired when I put up the ward and went through clearing people. I suppose I forgot-“

“You forgot _me_ ,” Blaise drawled, pointing to himself. “Draco’s best mate. _Only_ mate. But you remembered Theo. Who is not Draco’s mate.”

“Well, Blaise. That’s not really true. They are friends,” Astoria replied, trying to force herself from blushing and Blaise snorted, brushing off his clothes angrily. They _were_ friends. They had always been around together. Theodore was at his home often and at Hogwarts they were always in the same group. Just because they weren’t particularly _fond_ of being friends didn’t mean they _weren’t_ friends.

Draco would kill her if he knew.

“Excuse us, Mr. Zabini,” Granger said, scowling. “We are in the middle of something.”

Blaise stopped, only his eyes moving to the Auror, his only acknowledgment to her words. He went back to brushing off his clothes, not saying a word to either of them. He stood there, plucking at his clothing for a while until _he_ decided he was done before sniffing at them and looking at him from down his nose and leaving them to walk inside. 

“Charming man,” Granger quipped as Astoria stared after him worriedly. _How_ had she not cleared Blaise as well as Theodore? That made her look absolutely horrible!

Granger cleared her throat after Astoria didn’t refocus her attention and Astoria readjusted herself. “I apologize for that,” she said, smiling at her again. She had hoped they were almost done. She did not want Blaise talking to Draco about this without her there.

“Right, well. For now I think we are done here, but we are going to come back a few more times. We are taking extra precautions with individuals who were directly involved with Voldemort. I am sure you can understand.” 

Astoria nodded distractedly, standing to escort Granger back into the Manor. 

Draco watched Granger and his wife enter the room again, noticing Astoria’s face slightly off. 

What had she done now?

He didn’t look at the idiots in front of him as they gathered their things to prepare to leave. “May I _help_ you, Granger?” He asked the woman who was staring at him with a rather disgusting look of anger on her face. Fuck, he hated the bitch. 

“I just hope you know that a bruised wife does not make you look good to us at all. I have made a note of it,” Granger said coldly.

He looked over at Astoria’s neck uncaringly and raised his wand lazily, casting a glamour charm so her skin appeared as porcelain and smooth as the rest of her. “There you are,” he said icily, a slow smile spreading across his face as he regarded the bristling the witch. “All better.”

“I don’t know how you can sleep at night,” she started angrily before her coworker interrupted her, giving her a look. The man had seemed ready to leave the moment he had started interrogating Draco, Draco was sure he did not want to wait through a fight.

“Right. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. We will be back multiple times. As many times as we see necessary for the time being. Please do not attempt to move locations in this time.”

“Oi,” one of the older Aurors began, looking at Astoria and then down at the files he was holding with a curious scowl on his face and Draco watched Blaise and Nott come in the room. “You Krat’s daughter?” 

“Yes. Freya Krat,” Astoria replied, nodding. 

The man smirked and looked at the other older man next to him who grinned in reply, whistling lowly. “Yes. I remember her. She was quite the bird in school.”

The younger dark skinned man cleared his throat, looking at them with a slightly annoyed expression. “We will be leaving now,” he announced, more to the older men beside him before looking at Astoria apologetically. 

“A bitch though don’t get me wrong,” the first man scoffed. “I mean that one was cold to the bone and acted like she owned the world, but shit if she wasn’t pretty to look at. I mean-“ 

“I don’t believe my wife asked your opinion on her mother’s appearance,” Draco snapped. He was always surprised by the social skills these pathetic excuses for men had. 

Yet, men like _himself_ were called pigs who had no respect for women.

Draco glanced at Astoria looking at Granger with a slight smile on her face before he looked to Blaise who was grimacing at the Aurors, seemingly just as impressed with their manners as Draco was.

“Right. Again, we will be leaving now,” the young Auror repeated louder, nodding to Granger and walking out stiffly as his colleagues followed, Granger throwing Astoria a glance before giving him a hard look as she followed after them. 

“Well, looks like we missed a rather fun party,” Nott said chuckling. “Why weren’t we invited?” 

Draco raised an eyebrow, nodding to Blaise and examining his appearance. “Looks as if Blaise attended a party himself. He clearly didn’t need mine.”

“Oh you can thank your wife for this,” Blaise said flatly, dropping himself into an armchair. “She _forgot_ to clear me from her ward. But don’t you worry. She conveniently did not forget Theo.”

Aha. Of course she didn’t.

Draco fought to keep his eyes neutral as his anger balled into his stomach. 

She just wouldn’t learn. 

“The idea of you being forgettable is plausible, Blaise,” Draco said calmly, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Or perhaps I’m just _un_ forgettable,” Nott purred, and Draco watched him turn to his wife slightly from the corner of his eye. Draco gripped his drink impossibly hard. 

Oh how he wished to _rip_ his vocal chords from his body.

“I can assure you I will _not_ be forgetting you, this instance, _or_ any other _certain_ instances involving you _any_ time soon after this, Zabini,” Astoria rushed out furiously, betrayal crossing her face. 

Blaise blinked, looking around the room to make a show of confusion. “Draco. What was that? Did your child just _threaten_ me? What am I supposed to take that as?”

“I am as confused as you, Blaise,” Draco drawled.

“It’s alright. I understand. Most toddlers do have temper problems. I see now why you are bruised,” Blaise said, looking at her neck where the bruises were now covered. “I would work on that, for your sake.”

Astoria looked slightly shamed and she turned her heel, leaving the room swiftly without being excused. He watched Nott watch his wife leave, a frown on his face after he heard Blaise’s comment, searching her form with concern for what Blaise was referring to. 

“Which one was her mother again? All of them blend together at this point,” Blaise asked, rolling his wand in his fingers. 

Draco rolled his eyes and summoned some photo books from when his parents were at Hogwarts, dropping them on the table and a cloud of dust covered the room. 

“Thanks, mate,” Blaise said dryly after coughing up the filth that filled his lungs.   
“Anytime.”

Blaise ignored the books as Draco expected him to. He rarely cared to do anything that required lifting a finger. Nott walked over to the table and sat, flipping one of them open. “You aren’t really _looking_ at the photos are you,” Blaise snorted, watching him. “I don’t care that much.”

“I don’t suppose we have anything better to do,” Nott said shrugging. “Oh look, Malfoy. Your father always had a ponytail.”

Draco rolled his eyes, ignoring his snickering. Blaise leaned forward and took the book from him, flipping through it quickly. “Yes. I forgot. My mother was friends with your wife’s father. We could be _siblings_ and she _threatens_ me,” he drawled, shaking his head. 

Draco looked at the photo. It was a moving image of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He recognized Blaise’s beautiful mother who was sat beside Aldrich Greengrass who had a very closed off look on his face and he seemed to be listening to something she was saying, staring out at nothing. Their group was sat separately from where his mother sat and his father was not in the photo at all. His mother sat slightly apart from the group she was close to and she was looking to a taller witch next to her as she ate, looking slightly insecure with herself. The witch next to her was blonde as well, but her eyes were green and filled with a sultriness and confidence his mother did not have. The woman’s full lips were pulled into a slight smirk as she watched the man next to her who she was sitting close enough to be touching, her eyebrow cocking mischievously at something he said. Draco matched her placement with the name next to the photo.

Freya Krat.

The woman only resembled Astoria when you looked past the expression on her face and sex appeal that Astoria did not portray. Even Daphne didn’t match her demeanor the same.

It was odd to see his mother look so small and mouse-like next to the woman she was paying so much attention to. He had always known his mother for her confidence and how tall she held herself. She practically disappeared next to this woman.

“Would you look at that,” Blaise said, grabbing the book. “Found her. Assumed _your_ mother was your wife’s at first, Draco. Yes, she _does_ indeed look like a bitch, and oh? What’s this? She’s all cozied up to Mr. Nott?”

Draco was being tested today. 

Theodore took the book and examined it. “Yes, that’s him,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he examined the photo further, an odd look crossing his features.

“Actually, that was when your family was in higher status than the Malfoys before they fell from grace and were knocked down some pegs.”

Nott gave him a cold look and sat back in his seat as Blaise went through more photos. “Your mother looks like a damn shadow to this uppity woman,” Blaise snorted to Draco. “Never thought Narcissa Malfoy to look so small.”

“My mother has never mentioned being close with Mrs. Greengrass,” he said dully. 

“Doesn’t look like they’re friends exactly. You know, my mother talks about her days Hogwarts quite a lot. Perhaps I should actually listen next time I’m pretending to.”

“Perhaps,” Draco said boredly, though he was slightly interested to know the dynamics of their parents’ lives at Hogwarts now that his mother seemed much different than he expected her to seem based on these photos.

Nott was silent as he seemed deep in thought and Draco stood, walking to the fireplace. “Did you see Granger here? I was surprised the whole lot of them didn’t come,” Draco scoffed. “Why pass up a chance to harass me in my own home?” 

“Yes, your wife was laughing with her when I got here. You may have married a blood traitor.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “She’s overly political and fake. Not a blood traitor.”

Her _brother_ was a blood traitor. 

Astoria paced the room nervously. Of course Blaise couldn’t possibly do something _kind_ for her and _not_ make it seem as if she somehow favored Theodore in any way. She truly wasn’t thinking much of it when she was clearing people for the stupid ward. Now he would suspect her _wanting_ the man. She was afraid of his anger.

_I see why you’re bruised._

She shook her head at Blaise’s jab. That wasn’t what she feared. She didn’t want to lose her chance at his affections. She didn’t want to be kicked out of his bedroom; to be replaced by random whores. She didn’t want to be _lonely_.

Eventually, assuming Draco would talk with his friends for hours, she ventured out of the room as she grew bored, going down to their grand library to look for a new read. She needed a distraction. 

She missed Daphne.

It was so odd being without her sister. She never had groups of friends to go see and mingle with, but she was never doing _absolutely nothing_ like she was now that she lived in this empty mansion. All of their homes had so many rooms, so much space with hardly anyone that lived in them to fill it all up. 

What was the point? 

Astoria sighed and decided on a book, curling up on one of the leather chairs as she read. She wasn’t particularly taken with the book, but it was better than nothing. Hours past and she read through the rest of the day, falling asleep in the chair. 

Draco found his wife sleeping in library after calling for her impatiently for the past few minutes and shook his head, his anger for her fading slightly after seeing her peaceful form. He went to her and picked her up, carrying her light frame to his room and to his bed. He took off her jewelry with his wand but left her clothes before laying next to her. He reached for her pinned hair and let it down, tossing the pins aside. He much preferred it down. Draco watched her mouth twitch before entering her memories, searching deeply. 

“You seem different.” Theodore Nott seemed about nine or ten years old as he looked down at little Astoria who sitting quietly on a bench in the gardens at the Parkinson Mansion. 

Astoria looked up at him, her face seemingly void of the light that was meant to be in a young girl’s face at such an age. The light that was there previously in earlier memories. “Oh.. I don’t mean to,” she replied, looking down at her lap.   
“Did something happen?” Theodore asked, sitting next to her curiously. Astoria flinched away from his nearness, scooting over slightly. Theodore frowned in response, putting his hands up in a surrendering motion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Nothing happened,” she said, her voice small as she ignored his apology. 

The young girl avoided the boy’s gaze, looking down at the ground as Theodore watched her, his face looking a bit sad. “Are your parents angry at you? It’s okay. It’s scary when that happens, but they won’t be mad forever. They will forgive you. They get mad because they want you to be the best.” 

Astoria didn’t reply and she twisted her hands in her lap, shivering slightly at the wind. It was dark outside and the wind blew at the plants in the garden as well as Astoria’s hair that was up in a neat ponytail.

“Why don’t you go inside? It’s cold out here.”

“I don’t want to go inside,” she said softly, shifting in her seat. 

“Did you get smacked? My parents have smacked me before,” He said, examining her face for traces of punishment. 

Astoria’s lip quivered slightly and she turned more from him.   
“Don’t cry. It’s okay. Whatever happened will be far in the past soon and will just be a memory you never think of anymore. That’s what my mother tells me when I’m upset. So just think of that and you will feel better.” 

Astoria wiped at her eyes, breathing in deeply as if she had been holding her breath. “I know. I’m just being weak.”

“That’s okay. I think everyone is sometimes,” Theodore said, grinning slightly in attempt to lighten up the conversation. “Hey, I’ve seen Draco cry when he got whacked in the back of the head with his father’s cane when he was messing around.” 

Astoria smiled slightly and she pressed her lips together before her smile faded again and she stared at her hands. 

“Come inside,” Theodore insisted again. “You’re going to get sick. Then I’ll feel guilty because I’m older and supposed to be a gentleman and not let you get sick. It’ll be my fault.”

Astoria stood at the command, waiting for him to get up as well before she followed him in the doors quietly, her drooping shoulders straightening before presenting herself to the people inside. 

Draco found Astoria’s eyes open again when he left her memory, her eyes searching his; a sadness and slight amount of alarm in them. Draco grit his teeth, remembering the memory. Nott.

_Why was he always there?_

Draco grabbed Astoria’s face, forcing himself to be more gentle than he desired to be before kissing her possessively, only to break the kiss as soon as her lips responded. He dragged his mouth to her temple slowly. “The only man,” he began, speaking against her delicate skin harshly. “You ever have to worry about remembering is me. I’m the only man that should matter to you. You are _mine_.”

He pulled away from her and laid back, his jealousy still burning in his stomach. Astoria watched him with big eyes, looking hesitant. She propped herself up slightly after moving closer to him and placed a hand on his cheek, trembling every so slightly. Her light blue eyes searched his with sincerity before she leaned down to kiss him softly, her eyes closing innocently. Her kiss was slow and unsure, and he allowed her to kiss him sweetly before dragging her on top of him, threading his fingers into her hair and deepening the kiss. 

He wanted to _crush_ her against him. 

His hunger and desire to possess him, dominate her, and mark every part of her with himself and his essence until she never doubted who she belonged to demanded to be sated. _No one_ would doubt who she belonged to. He yanked her head back by the fistful of hair in his hand, dragging his lips down her neck and onto her collarbones. She trembled on top of him and pushed herself forward to provide easier access to the area he was paying attention to, her breathing uneven with anticipation.

Good girl. 

He nipped sharply at her skin, sucking it so there would be evidence of him, his claim on her. He pulled her head back farther as he kissed further down her chest, listening to her intakes of breath at his teeth. He used his other hand to grind her hips against his and his need for her grew at the painfully delicious feel of her rubbing into him. “I am yours,” he listened to her whimper quietly. 

_Good girl._

He relaxed his hand in her hair, letting her head come down to a more comfortable position as he moved his mouth back up, kissing her throat gently. Guilt filled him slightly as he kissed her there slowly before pulling her back down to kiss her sweet mouth again. He broke the kiss, enjoying the sound of her ragged breathing and he rested his head back, leaving her on top of him. 

“Go to sleep, Astoria.”


	11. Chapter 11

 

Astoria was awoken slowly by the man twitching and stirring underneath her. She opened her eyes tiredly, squinting up in the dark at his face that was twisted in a pained and disturbed expression.She frowned worriedly and placed her hands on his cheeks, murmuring his name. She said his name louder when he didn’t wake up, crying out in pain suddenly when his hands grabbed her wrists, practically crushing them in their grip. His eyes were now open and filled with alarm and a troubled darkness. She felt him shift suddenly beneath her and he moved as if to throw her off of him. She called his name much louder this time and watched relieved as his eyes cleared and he released her wrists, his body relaxing back into the bed. Her wrists throbbed at their release from his death grip.

At least Draco was talented with glamour charms. 

Astoria watched him cautiously, stroking her thumb against his cheek lightly. She was sure he was not going to talk about what his nightmare had been about, but she ought to at least try. With how private he always was, she feared she would anger him by trying to intrude on what goes on in his head. “Show me,” she told him quietly. 

Draco said nothing and was still when she spoke. He watched her like that for a while, his eyes tired while searching hers before an unfamiliar scene filled her head. 

“Draco, my boy,” the Dark Lord cooed, circling Draco who had his head bowed slightly in submission. The other Death Eaters surrounded them in the dark Manor which Voldemort had taken at the time, watching the scene. “I worry at times about you. Of your strength. I fear you.. Weak. Do you fear yourself weak?” Voldemort’s tone was mockingly thoughtful.

“I do not, my lord,” Draco responded, his voice slightly small and uneven. 

“I don’t know if I believe you,” the Dark Lord tsked. “You seem.. _Ungrateful_ for the task I have given you.” 

“I am not, my lord. I can assure you, I am grateful for the responsibility you have given to me.” 

“Ah yes, yes. Mmm. Well alright if you are so sure, but I still think you may need _some_ motivation. Just as an extra push of course,” the Dark Lord said, an eerie smile crossing his alarming features. “Narcissa, darling. Come here for a moment, won’t you? I require your help. _Draco_ requires your help.” 

Draco’s head snapped in the direction of his nervous mother who was nodding obediently and walking over to them, her steps careful. Draco looked to the Dark Lord, concern now filled his eyes. “I’ve found, Draco,” Voldemort began, his voice pleasant and smooth, “that rewards are a _good_ motivation, but not always good enough. You see, weak people will convince themselves the reward, whatever it may be, not grand enough; that they have enough to keep themselves pleased without it. After a while, they decide that they don’t _need_ the reward. That is why I find _threats_ much more motivating.” 

Narcissa Malfoy’s screams ripped through the Manor, bouncing off the walls and echoing throughout the wide room as the lovely woman dropped to her hands and knees to the pain, her fingers digging into the stone flooring. Some of the Death Eaters leered and looked deeply entertained with the woman’s pain. Draco visibly trembled hard, stuttering out his pleads for the dark wizard to stop.

“Alright,” Voldemort said softly after Narcissa’s screams stopped. “I stopped.. Now you.” 

Draco froze and Narcissa did as well, her eyes closing. “My Lord,” Lucius Malfoy began, looking at his wife and son with a worried expression. “My son will not be able to perform the curse on her.You have to truly _want_ to inflict the pain. He.. Draco loves his mother.” 

The Dark Lord ignored Lucius’s words, watching Draco expectantly. Draco took a step back, unable to follow the command or even attempt. 

His own screams filled the room. 

Astoria’s eyes readjusted in the dark bedroom as the memories left her head. “I tried eventually. I couldn’t. He told me he would kill her if I didn’t make her scream. He told me to be creative with my curses if I was too weak to correctly use the Cruciatus against her,” Draco said, his voice icy. Astoria noticed his eyes flickering at “creative”. Astoria did not want to know what spells he had used in place of the Cruciatus in order to torture his mother. “She should have never been there,” he murmured bitterly.

“A wife’s place is at her husband’s side. She had to be there,” she told him quietly.

“She deserved better than my father’s side,” Draco snarled, his body shaking slightly in his anger. 

“By then it was your side that her heart was by.” 

“As if mine was any better,” Draco said, chuckling coldly. 

“It was,” she told him, pain in her voice. 

Astoria physically hurt for Draco in that moment as well as Narcissa. To watch your son go through such things would break any woman. Draco was a good son. He loved his mother in a way not every man in their world did. He wasn’t a selfless man by any means, but when it came to her he was vulnerable.

He was _human._

Narcissa was the reason he had promised her mercy. She was his good qualities, as buried and few as they may seem. They were there, and Astoria would work with them and she owed them to his mother. She would work with them for Narcissa, for both of them. Draco deserved something more than his haunted emptiness, and his mother deserved to have her son’s life to _mean_ something, just as Draco had provided Narcissa’s life meaning. 

“Go back to sleep. It is still hours before morning,” he told her, his voice emotionless. 

Astoria watched his eyes for a few more moments before moving her hands from his face. She adjusted herself on his tall frame and hesitated for a moment before pressing her face into his neck, resting her lips against his pulse as she inhaled his comforting scent. She rested there, taking in his warmth and both listening to and feeling his breathing until it grew deeper and slower. She kissed his neck gently before falling asleep again herself. 

Draco woke with girl incredibly close to him. He was covered in her; her body heat, her lavender and sweet scent, her light weight. He thought of the night and what he had revealed to her, remembering her comfort. He had never had that before, not like that. She hadn’t tried to smother him with over sympathizing and cooing in her remorse. She had just understood. She had hurt _with_ him. He was not fully sure why he had shown her that memory from his dream when she had told him to, but he supposed if he was going to keep taking from her memories it was somewhat fine for her to have one of his. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so horrible for his wife to know him. Perhaps he _wanted_ her to know him. 

He wasn’t sure he knew himself. 

Draco shifted slightly and felt a wetness on his neck where Astoria’s mouth rested. He slowly raised an eyebrow. She was _drooling_ on him. What a ridiculous thought. Here he was, Draco Malfoy, being drooled on by his supposed elite pure-blood wife. He fought his body to keep from shaking with laughter as affection settled over him, surprising him slightly. He picked up a piece of her hair in his fingers, pulling it through them as he played with it, examining it’s color and silkiness as well as the natural curl to it. She rarely left it to go where it pleased naturally. He stopped himself. 

Alright, enough of this. 

He shifted slightly, turning their bodies so he could lay her down in the place of him as he got up from the bed, going to shower. The girl didn’t hardly stir and he shook his head at her damp lips as he wiped a hand over his neck. She was strangely alluring in the way she slept so carelessly and deeply. He imagined she would be quite mortified to know that she had covered him in her saliva. 

He stood in the shower for a long time as his thoughts raced and unfinished themselves as they usually did, his wife being a confusing addition to the mix of emotions and ideas that fought over themselves to take the lead in his head. He focused on his breathing, counting his breaths to focus and clear his mind as the overly hot water poured over his face, almost burning him. How he wished he could just turn them all off, end it all. 

He was weak. 

Astoria was slowly waking up when Draco was walking past her to leave, though he did not greet her. Despite his new affection for her, he doubted he would ever be _that_ husband. He made his way down the steps, straightening his collar as he headed towards his office, opening the door to find Adrian Pucey in his desk chair reading some of his papers. “Pucey,” he addressed him dully. He hadn’t seen him in quite a while. He was usually off avoiding home, partying in different areas of the world while spending his family’s fortune.

“For fuck’s sake, Draco. It’s nearly noon. Were you sleeping until now? What is going on with your wards? I had a shit of a time trying to get here,” he complained, dropping the paper he was reading. 

“My wife happened. She seems to believe I only speak to all of three or so people. Now, if you would remove yourself from my seat,” Draco told him, rolling his eyes. 

Adrian grinned. “That’s right you got married to the smaller Greengrass girl. My father knew her mother in school, actually. They were friendly enough. Apparently she fucked the Nott family right over.” 

Mmm. Good. 

“I don’t pay attention to gossip,” Draco told him, ignoring his slight curiosity, taking his seat back when Pucey got up to sit across from him. 

“Of course not, Malfoy. You have bigger and better things to think about, _of course_. How could I forget?” He said, looking bored while fiddling with a paper weight on the desk. 

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, ignoring his sarcasm.

“Why, I missed you of course, _mate_ ,” Pucey drawled. 

“Mhm.” 

“I won’t be here long. Every moment I’m home my parents are on me about marriage and appearances and whatever else they go on about. They’ve threatened to disown me more than once. I don’t know how you do it. I’d much rather enjoy my youth and taste at least a _bit_ of freedom before settling into this cycle of dull and repetitive bullshit.” 

“I don’t have a choice.” 

“Don’t worry. I suspect you’re far too depressing by now to actually _enjoy_ yourself even if you _did_ have a choice.” Adrian smirked at him, dropping the paper weight back on the table. “Bring your bride down. I think I remember her being _about_ as depressing as you, which is quite difficult so congratulations on the perfect match, but I’d still like to check.”

“Seeing as others I’m acquainted with don’t know how to behave around what belongs to me; I don’t suppose I will.” 

“Who?”

“Nott.” 

“Doesn’t he know her mother royally fucked his father in the arse? Actually, what if that’s what he’s doing. Some sort of elaborate plan of revenge,” he snickered. “He screws your wife and takes pictures then spreads them through the community or something petty like that.” 

“I don’t believe he knows anything about their parents previous relationship at Hogwarts and I am wondering why you care enough to know,” Draco said flatly, his anger flaring slightly at the thought of Pucey’s idea.

“It’s interesting and relevant.”

Draco snorted loudly. “You refuse to participate in hardly anything these days, yet you find our parents pasts and friendships _interesting_ and _relevant_?” 

Pucey nodded. “In my denial that the people of this community were always as horrifically dull and lifeless as they are now, yes.”

“So you’re honestly going to get yourself disowned?”

“Of course not. I’m not that much of an idiot. You know no one actually gets out of this alive. No, I’m just kicking up a bit of theatrics before I comply with all of this. I want to enjoy myself as much as I can before my life is thrown away to nothing.” 

Draco made a sound of acknowledgement. As he thought. Pucey was no different than the rest of them no matter how much he pretended. This was their world and none of them intended to actually escape it, none of them were ever willingly disowned. This was all they knew; everything else was unfamiliar. 

_Inferior._

“You know, it’s rumored that Greengrass keeps vials and vials of extracted memories, his own memories and others, that he uses for blackmail,” Pucey mused.

“Have you only come here to gossip to me like a woman,” Draco said impatiently, squinting at the ridiculous statement. 

“You may look down on women, but their minds our actually quite interesting and complex. You’d be surprised how conniving they can be. Incredibly clever and layered they often are,” Adrian said, grinning slowly. “Fascinating.”

Draco rolled his eyes to the ceiling, watching it for a few moments. Pucey was full of shit. He didn’t care about women aside from screwing them and taking drugs with them. “I appreciate your attempt at being profound, but save it for the next group of women you're pursuing. They’d appreciate your _sincere_ compliments much more than I do.” 

“Oh, they do. They appreciate them very much. Oh-“ Adrian cut off, catching the sight of Astoria passing the door in the hall. “-there you are, lovely. Come in here.” 

Astoria stopped walking and looked at Draco before entering, dressed perfectly without a hair out of place as usual despite being a sleeping heap of drool only a while before. “Hello, Adrian. It’s nice to see you again,” she said, smiling politely.

“Yes, yes,” Adrian said, eyeing her bruised wrists before giving Draco a look. “I can already tell you’re miserable. My mother has been asking about your sister actually,” he said, changing subjects as he did quite often that way, tilting his head. Draco frowned slightly at her wrists. He had forgotten that he was out of sorts when she had woken him. He hadn’t known he had left bruises. 

He watched his wife perk up, excitement filling her eyes. “Oh? Has she? What has she asked?”

“Alright, relax. It may be nice to see me again but that doesn’t mean we have to go as far as being in-laws,” he said, putting his hands up. “I am very flattered that you find me at _least_ a step above a middle-aged man in need of a remarriage. Truly, wow. My self esteem is soaring at how high you hold me. However, I will have to decline. It’s a tad cliché, and I try to avoid those. Failure children ending up together in the perfect match? Eh.”

Astoria squinted. “Not to be rude, Adrian, but your whole life is a bit of a cliché.”

Adrianlaughed. “So I suppose I should try not to make it worse than it already is, no?” He turned to look at Draco and narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be leaving soon, I’m afraid. I’m already feeling depression sinking in just by being in your husband’s presence. It’s amazing how he has that affect, really. I fear for your well-being. Darling, if you ever feel like jumping off the balcony, which you will, write me and I will come help you out. Tell you that you have so much to live for and all that, even though you don’t, but lies are better than the truth, aren’t they? I will provide you with the best lies and false hope you need. Instead of shagging Nott. That would be an unfortunate idea, and poor Draco would be so embarrassed, and as his dear and old friend it is my job to look out for him,” Adrian told her, yawning. 

Astoria’s chest puffed up slightly and her eyes widened in offense. “I would never do such a thing. There is no reason to insult me that way. I am faithful to Draco.” 

Draco watched her reaction from the corner of his eye carefully, satisfied with her response. Though, she couldn’t expect not to be suspected when she seemed as fond of Nott as she did. 

Pucey gave her a withering look. “Insult you? Love, _I_ would shag Nott if I was stuck with Malfoy for the rest of my life.”

“Please, spare us the imagery,” Draco said flatly. 

“Tell me, does your father happen to have stores of memories that he keeps in order to fuck people over?” Adrian asked her, leaning forward towards her, ignoring Draco. 

Astoria blinked, seeming surprised at his question. “Now, why would I tell you my family secrets?” She asked, her voice falsely innocent as she tilted her head to the side slightly. 

“Now sister, I thought we _were_ planning on becoming family?” 

“Well, until then I suppose you will just have to wonder,” Astoria replied, smiling. 

“My father was friends with your mother. That means that we are friends too. So you should tell me what I want to know. That’s what your mother would want, _I’m sure._ ” 

Astoria laughed lightly. “Seeing as I never had much idea who my mother was friends with during her time at Hogwarts I can assure you I don’t think she would want or even care about anything of the sort.” 

“Pucey. I could have sworn you just told us you were leaving because I was causing you depression,” Draco said shortly, already tired of his presence. He was never serious and cared about nonsense. 

Pucey feigned a hurt expression as he put a hand over his heart. “You almost sound as if you _want_ me to leave, Draco.” 

“Mmm. I have somewhere to be, and I would prefer to not leave you alone with my wife. It’s not correct.”

Pucey shrugged and stood. “You’re only sucking the joy out of your wife by preventing her my company.” 

“I am sure she will find a way to cope seeing as she has survived this long being married to me,” Draco drawled. 

“Too right, Draco!” Pucey said, clapping his hands together loudly. “You are catching on to how horrible you are impressively quickly. I shouldn’t underestimate her. She’s obviously very strong to deal with you. I’ll see you soon, love.” 

“I’m sure she can hardly wait.” 

Pucey ignored his comment, nodding to him in farewell and winking at Astoria before leaving. 

Astoria shook her head at his disappearing form, scoffing lightly. “Hm?” He questionedher, watching her face for a moment. 

“It’s just astounding that a few mistakes has led my sister to be comparable to Adrian Pucey in terms of rebellion. Men truly can get away with murder, but if women lift a finger out of line..” She trailed off, frowning. 

“Are you referring to when Daphne thought ‘it may be best to just listen to her _own_ desires for once and live for _herself_ ’?” Draco asked her, repeating what Astoria had advised her sister, studying her expression carefully. 

Astoria went to still, her mouth opening slightly as a stutter of words came out. She closed her mouth first before composing herself and tilting her chin up. “Yes. That. She has times of foolishness, but she does not act like Pucey.” 

Draco smirked, enjoying her uncomfortable shuffling. “I see. Quite foolish, indeed. I’m not sure where she would get such a mindset from.”

Astoria was quiet but her face was set in a stern look as her chin stayed slightly elevated. 

“I’m sure it must be hard for you to know you’re being compared to her in such a way by me.”

“No, it isn’t hard at all.” 

“No?” 

“No.” 

“And why is that?” Draco was surprised by her sureness. He was only trying to get a rise from her. He hardly remembered the sex with her sister, and he was definitely not thinking about her when Astoria had been beneath him, but he was sure she would be at least a bit insecure over it.

“Daphne is not better than me at anything,” Astoria said smoothly, repeating her own words as a child. 

Draco snorted with surprise and amusement at her sudden confidence. She was truly competitive when it came to her sister, even now. “I see,” he murmured, watching her eyes for a moment. “I will be back. I am going to see my parents.” Draco saw her face fall at the mention of him leaving and he felt a bit of triumph in it. She truly craved his nearness. He ignored the odd urge to touch her in a goodbye, leaving her in the middle of his office. 


	12. Chapter 12

Draco found his mother in the sitting room of their hidden home where she was staring off, her face resting in her pale hand. There was a slight frown on her well-aged face as she seemed to be lost in her thoughts, most likely unpleasant ones. He went to her silently, sitting beside her on the couch and pulling her to his side as he wrapped his arms around her frame and kissed her head. He felt her arms move around him to return his embrace and she pressed her face into his shoulder, breathing deeply as they held each other. He felt her shake slightly and he frowned, holding her tighter. She needed to get out of the house. “My Draco,” she breathed, pulling back and kissing his cheeks. “What would I do without you?”

“I believe that is my question to you,” he replied, allowing the corner of his lips to turn up slightly in a small smile. He handed her a box of a candy she was fond of and she smacked his arm lightly. “Draco. You know better than to constantly bring me sweets. You can’t make me fat! Just because I haven’t been going out too much lately does not mean I can let myself go. Who do you think I am?” She scolded him half-heartedly, opening the box as she spoke to eat one. 

“Your weight has never once changed from the first memory I have of you, and I’ve seen you eat many more sweets than that at one time. I doubt you have the ability to become fat,” he told her, shaking his head. “You definitely don’t have the ability to _let yourself go._ Even during the war you were always perfectly kept, and you saw how the rest of us looked.”

“You’re a liar,” she said scowling, eating another. “It’s not good to lie to your mother.” 

“It’s not good to be insecure as Mrs. Malfoy either.” 

“There’s a new Mrs. Malfoy now,” his mother huffed, scowling at him. “I can’t compete with a teenager.”

“That teenager can’t compete with you and neither can anyone else,” he told her chuckling. 

Narcissa smiled at him and grabbed his hand to kiss it, holding it while covering it with the other. “I feel bad for the rest of the mothers in the world. None of them have a son quite like you.” 

“You ought to feel sorry for every single person who never encounters my perfect presence, not just other mothers.”

His mother snorted loudly and shook her head, waving her wand to pour them both glasses of lemon water. “Now that is _far_ too much of a stretch. My compliment was already exaggerated, no need to go and sound ridiculous. You know you’re rotten to everyone else besides me.”

“I’m not sure about that, mother. Astoria’s face was quite disappointed when I left her alone for you,” he told her, knowing this was the kind of information she wanted. 

He might as well humor her. 

She paused as her water glass touched her lips and she smirked before taking a drink. “I see. So you both _are_ getting along well and spending time together?” 

“Well are we not meant to procreate?” He drawled. He knew this was not the response she had wanted. He thought of bringing children into the world now, with everything going on and with how overwhelmed he felt as it is. He supposed it wasn’t his job to take care of them; so he shouldn’t care ultimately. It was hard for him to wrap his head around having his own children. He had never cared much for children. Would he be able to _love_ them? 

“Draco,” his mother said, sounding far from amused. “You know we are not talking about your sexual relationship, and I can only _hope_ you are not only using her for that. You had more than enough time for that nonsense which I am well aware you used every bit of that time to your liking.”

“She’s not as.. Bland as I had thought. Her mind surprisingly isn’t empty,” Draco said slowly. 

“Draco, for as much as you respect me you truly have no idea how clueless you are about women. This may be news to you, but women are in fact human beings with thoughts and emotions, often more than men actually.”

“Mmm.” Draco tilted his glass from side to side, watching the pieces of ice move. “I was looking through your photos from Hogwarts.” 

Narcissa started to protest about the change of subject before she raised an eyebrow, looking curious and surprised. “Why would you do that? You couldn’t possibly be interested in your mother’s boring life.” 

“Two of the Aurors were going on about Astoria’s mother. According to them her appearance and attitude did not match. Though I suppose _they_ think all of us horrible so it’s hard to take their opinions for more than a grain of salt,” he told her, watching her mouth twitch with amusement. 

“So you care about Freya Greengrass but not your own mother? I’m wounded,” she said, laughing lightly. 

“If it helps your pain, it was Blaise who wanted to see what she looked like.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’ve all seen her many times growing up. How do you not take note of _anything_? And here you are accusing women of having empty minds.”

Draco scoffed. “As I believed I had seen you many times growing up, mother. You came off incredibly different in the photo I was looking at.”

“Well, yes I suppose you’re right. I was definitely no Freya Krat in school I can assure you if that is who you are comparing to.”

“You were friends.”

“Friends? Oh no, Draco,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I suppose I tried to be her friend and I spent time with her, but she didn’t care to have friends. She was a bit nasty actually. She was also in the year above me. The closest thing she had to a friend was Joseph Nott, and we all know how that ended up,” she said, clicking her tongue. 

“No, we all do not know how that ended up,” he said, rolling his eyes. “As we all are not gossiping women.”

“Do not belittle women to me, a woman, Draco,” Narcissa said shortly. “Besides, do not act as if men don’t participate in gossip. You only call it something different, but it is still the same.” 

Draco entered his mother’s mind impatiently, ignoring her attempts to block him. His mother was fine at Occlumency, but his Legilimency was better.

Narcissa Black rushed up next to Freya Krat as she confidently made were way through the halls, barely glancing down at Narcissa. “Black,” she quipped, smirking at a nearby Ravenclaw who was making eyes at her. She winked at him and Narcissa shook her head in disgust. “Why do you entertain them? They have no respect for us,” she ask, sniffing and looking at the boy distastefully. 

“Oh darling Narcissa, the only people who have respect for _us_ are ourselves,” Freya said smoothly. 

“My question still stands.” 

“It feels good to have power in _some_ way. Power that doesn’t come secondhand from a man that you have to be latched to in order to obtain it,” Freya spit the last bit out, looking crossed. 

“You don’t have power over them. You’re only feeding into their desires.” 

“Exactly. Their desires for _me._ Which they will never have. Power, Narcissa. Learn it. Wield it. Use it.” 

“And what exactly is the _point_ of using it? What does “power” like that get me?” 

“Nothing but a bit of pride for once in our unfortunate existences,” Freya muttered, her hard expression turning to something polite and neutral as she passed a group of pure-blood men looking at them, her strut slowing to a more modest, but still confident stride. 

“Our existences aren’t miserable,” Narcissa sighed. “You mustn’t be so negative. You are just looking at what we _don’t_ have instead of what we _do_ have. Don’t be ungrateful, especially you of all people. You will have more than one offer from _great_ families offering their name to you.” 

“I of _all_ people am well aware of that. I am paying for what I’m receiving, so I am allowed to complain about it all I’d like.”

“Well, I have to pay the same and I am far less attitude ridden than you,” Narcissa huffed, straightening her robes as she walked. 

“I am not you, Black.”

“You’re right. You’re better than me. You have a lot more options in family than I do. My parents inform me often.” 

“I’m better you in the fact that I’m not pathetic enough to state such a ridiculous thing out loud. You shouldn’t admit or believe _anyone_ better than you, especially not one of _us_ ,” Freya replied, looking disgusted at Narcissa. 

“It’s a simple fact and as long as I can accept something I can change it,” Narcissa told her confidently, unbothered by her look. 

Freya snorted and kept walking, practically bouncing down the long flight of stairs. 

“I’m not stupid. Or naive, Freya.” 

“I never said you were stupid, but I am quite sure you are more stupid than I am. However, you are _incredibly_ naive.”

“Is that so? And how have you come to that conclusion?”

“You’re hopeful. You think we have it made. You think if you keep all of your business in check and land a decent husband then everything will be perfect. Your parents will be happy, your bloodline will stay perfect, and everything will be glamorous. You’ll be on top of the _world_. What you don’t understand is that after this? After all of the effort and worrying and trampling your self worth to the ground for some man who doesn’t give a single shit about you and will _never_ give a single shit about you? There’s nothing after. It starts over again.” 

Narcissa looked away from Freya, focusing her gaze elsewhere while she looked slightly disturbed. “Well if you don’t want this life then you should simply step down, move on, and stop taking opportunities from other girls who _do_ want it.” 

Freya laughed. “I never said I didn’t want it. I will have it, and I will step on every single miserable bitch on the way there if I have to.” Freya spotted Lucius Malfoy, giving him a small, shy smile. “Because that’s what we do isn’t it? Ah. I believe Abraxas Malfoy is rather fond of my father. I wasn’t too concerned with Malfoy before, but _you_ are, and I am not above pettiness for the sake of pettiness.” 

Narcissa looked irritable, but didn’t protest to her comments about going after Narcissa’s desirable. “No, Narcissa. I will not step down. We are what we are, and there is no escaping it. There is no point in making it more difficult for myself than it has to be. So we will both do as we are told, and we will both end up miserable. We will both raise our children the same as we were raised, and we will raise our daughters to believe their whole world is about pleasing those men they kill themselves to impress but never do, and we will raise our sons to expect the world to bow at their feet and make them believe that they _deserve_ to have the world bow at their feet. Our sons will see how we are treated by their fathers and they will pay it no mind because that’s just the way it is, or perhaps they will have empathy for us, but only to turn around and do the same to their own wives because that’s all they know, and we will allow it because _that’s just the way it is_. Well, while I’m doing what I’m _supposed_ to do, you can bet all you have that I _will_ do it the best. Better than you and everyone else,” Freya said, her voice strong. “As you are trying to do the same, Narcissa, but I advise you wipe that look of hope off of your face. There is nothing men are attracted to beating the life out of more than _hope._ ” 

Narcissa sighed, looking at the ground now as she walked, shaking her head slowly. Freya shover her chin back up and glared at her. “Stop being pitiful,” she snapped. “It’s nauseating. We have the wives of the pigs to have those looks for us.” Freya sneered at the brunette Gryffindor being trapped against the wall by her grinning boyfriend who giving Narcissa a concerned look. “They are _not_ above us and they have no place to _pity_ us and don’t you _dare_ give them an excuse to!”

Narcissa scowled in the direction of the Gryffindor and went back to walking confidently next to Freya. “I’m not being pitiful. Your negativity is exhausting.”

“And your optimism is exhausting. Oh, don’t look at him,” Freya said, rolling her eyes at Narcissa’s gaze towards Aldrich Greengrass. 

Narcissa gave her a look and waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not _interested_ in him. I have hardly ever approached his parents. He just seems interesting, what people say about him. He seems intelligent.” 

“Men are cruel. Period. Intelligent cruel men are far more dangerous and harder to control than stupid cruel men. What people say about him seem to be _true_ and you don’t want to piss someone off who can mess up your storybook fantasy you have cooked up in your head. Focus on your pretty boy and touch up on your glamour charms for when you pour his tea wrong and settle for that. It’s best to swim in familiar waters. Besides, my brother seems to like Greengrass, which means it’s best to stay away from him,” Freya told her smoothly before she caught up with Joseph Nott who held the classroom door for her as Narcissa continued to watch Aldrich curiously. 

Draco found himself back looking at his mother in present time, her face angry. “Come now, mother. We were just getting to the good part where you were going to try to get in Greengrass’s bed,” he told her, smirking. 

Narcissa puffed up angrily as shook her head. “Don’t you dare show me such disrespect! _I am your mother_. I gave you _life_ you spoiled, rotten man,” she cried angrily, shoving him out of her space. 

Draco ignored her dramatics and sat back, thinking of the memory and Freya’s words to his mother. 

“ _Perhaps they will have empathy for us, but only to turn around and do the same to their own wives.”_

Draco had always felt sadness for his mother and how she had suffered, but it was incredibly difficult to see her in her youth attempting to be positive about what awaited her. A cold, empty life. 

_“I advise you wipe that look of hope off of your face. There is nothing men are attracted to beating the life out of more than hope.”_

Draco shuddered, closing his eyes and his mother quieted, resting a hand on his arm in concern. The same concern she had always had for him and his father no matter what they had done, no matter what his father had done to _her_ or no matter what failures of Draco’s caused her to suffer herself.

Unconditional love. 

Astoria wandered into the piano room, trailing her fingers along the keys as she watched herself in the mirror wall. She supposed she should be up in Draco’s room, as that is what he preferred when he wasn’t home given the circumstances, but she was growing so tired of it. She needed to move. People had always found her boring, but _this_ was not just boring. This was near torture.

She walked up to the mirror wall, tilting to one side to examine her body. It never changed, so she wasn’t sure why she was always checking her figure as if it would get better or worse. She wondered how Draco felt about it, if he liked it. He _seemed_ to be at least _somewhat_ attracted to her as they had slept together, but she was his wife and she was easy access for the time being. Her breasts were smaller, but that was preferable for a lot of the clothing she wore, so she had always found that a positive. Perhaps Draco preferred larger breasts. Maybe he was tired of blonde hair and wished her brunette. She smoothed her hands over her ribs and then over her hips. She was quite thin, but she wasn’t as skinny as she could possibly get herself. Her mother had always advised her that there was a preferable amount of healthy fat that men favored on a woman’s body as opposed to protruding bones. She frowned and wondered what Draco’s favorite type of woman was, trying to think of all of the women he had slept with to find a pattern. She was sure that she was not it, she did not have _that_ great of luck, but maybe if she knew she could change a couple of things here and there.

Astoria only noticed Draco come in when he was halfway into the room, walking towards her. She was always surprised at how he so easily seemed to fill an entire room with his almost dark presence. “I believe I told you to stay in my bedroom when I am gone. Why are you incapable of listening, Astoria?” He asked her, stopping when he was directly behind her and she could feel the air move in his approach. 

Astoria smiled almost sadly at him through the mirror. “Are you _worried_ about me?” She asked him unconfidently, only barely serious. She was sure he was worried about her the same way he was worried about his expensive possessions getting stolen. 

But there was something else in his eyes when he looked back at her that she couldn’t quite understand. 

Remorse? 

Before she could decide, his eyes had changed and he was looking down her body now, his eyes slow and careful. It was unnerving how self conscious and vulnerable he could make her feel just with his eyes. She watched as well as felt as his hands snaked around her waist, pulling her back against his firm body. She felt her eyelids drop slightly just at that, his effect on her much too strong. She saw his face grow smug in the mirror at her strong reaction and her eyes dropped to her own face that was quite clearly already portraying how easily he took over her. She flushed and he took her hair down as she had noticed he liked to do only to grab it in his fist and tilt her head to the side, kissing her neck slowly. 

“Yes,” he said quietly against her skin as she felt the zipper to her dress being pulled down. 

“Mmm?” Astoria’s stomach fluttered as she realized his intention to undress her. 

“I’m worried about you.” 

Astoria looked up at him over her shoulder surprised, looking at him questioningly at his sincere voice. Emotion rose in her and she could feel a new wave of affection for him move over her. Draco kissed her deeply, removing her dress as his mouth moved against hers, tossing it aside as he always did when he was removing something from her. He broke away and looked at her in the mirror instead of exactly at her, turning her shoulders back to face the mirror properly. She followed his gaze and felt him unclip her bra, shifting nervously as he removed it. She looked beside her body in the mirror shyly, embarrassed at the situation. His hand grabbed her jaw gently and forced her eyes back on her body. When she didn’t move her head back to where he had moved it from he released her jaw, kissing down her shoulder and sucking at her skin slowly as she watched him. His eyes moved from the mirror as he focused on her skin, his kisses burning her, taking over all of her focus. Her body swayed slightly when he reached her waist, dragging his teeth over the band of her panties and pulling them down until they fell the rest of the way on their own. He kissed the sensitive skin behind the backs of her knees before he moved and his eyes met hers as she stepped out of them, holding her gaze now as he took his time moving his mouth back up her body. His attention fell on her back, and as he spread his attentions from his mouth there she watched him undress himself, her body fully anticipating what was to come. 

She doubted he would be taking her upstairs first at this point..

Perhaps his goal was to torture her with her modesty, forcing her to watch herself fall into shameless lust as he showered her body with his bites and kisses before taking her here against her own reflection. Her cheeks were almost crimson and she watched her chest rise and fall with her heavier breathing, trying to control it. 

She gasped as her hips were suddenly yanked back against his again, only now there was no clothing to separate them, and his hands were everywhere on her now, feeling her and overwhelming her. 

Claiming her. 

A low moan escaped her when his hand moved over her breasts to caress and tease them as the other slid down her stomach and between her unsteady legs. He moved her legs apart with his feet impatiently, his hand brushing over the most sensitive part of her. She whimpered and her hips rolled forward naturally against his hand and he broke away his attention from behind her ear to watch her eyes, his eyes flashing with hunger and slight madness as her body responding to his touch. Her face reddened, timid of her reaction and embarrassed of his finding evidence of her _other_ type of reaction. He grabbed her hips again, positioning her how he wanted her for him before pushing his way inside her, causing her to lose her balance slightly and brace herself against the cool glass. He was still more gentle then she would have expected from him, which she was grateful for as she was not completely used to this still, but his pace quickened much faster than it had the first time and he was rocking into her much harder now.

She cried out softly, only slightly mortified at watching what he was doing to her in the mirror she was hanging onto. She watched her flushed face twist in pleasure as his smooth body moved behind her skillfully and her lip protested as she bit into it as her moans grew. Draco gathered her body up against his chest as she grew nearer to the release her body was screaming for. She felt his mouth devouring her neck as drove into her, her final moan coming out more as a strangled sob as she came undone. She seemed to forget her surroundings and everything around her as he continued to move inside her until he was satisfied himself and her eyes were slightly out of focus as she watched both of their reactions to coming down from their pleasure. Draco turned her around in his arms and pressed her back into the cool glass, kissing her mouth hard and she noticed his breathing as uneven and deep as hers. She caught her breath, resting against the glass as his lips moved across her jawline as her body and mind buzzed in the after effects. He pulled back from her slightly and cupped her face in his hand, his cool eyes searching hers, questioning hers. She held his eyes for a few moments before breaking away and she felt herself flush once again as she looked at her clothes on the floor, scowling up at him half-heartedly, a look in which he returned with a challenging expression. 

“I told you to stay in my room when I am gone.” 


	13. Chapter 13

 

Draco examined the sheen on the pretty witch’s face he had just ravished, a new wave of possession rolling over him. She grew more beautiful every time he actually took a moment to look at her, especially in the aftermath of her pleasure. 

Especially _during_ her pleasure. 

He had never reveled in the act of pleasing a woman during sex as he did with Astoria. The purpose of pleasing the other person was always to prove his skill, for power control, but he felt something different with Astoria. He wanted her to feel crippled in the pleasure he gave her. He wanted her to feel better than she had ever thought possible, to forget everything and everyone but him and what he was giving her. 

The odd affection in her eyes as she looked at him then made him slightly uncomfortable as it stirred the desire to reciprocate the feelings she was portraying to him, to confirm to her that her affections were met with something similar from him. She had often looked so insecure around him.

Her affection wasn’t for _him_. She didn’t know _him._ Her affection was only from him being the only person she had, and the fact that he was giving her small amounts of attention and any small amount he gave her while she was all alone besides him would of course make her respond strongly. It could be any person in his place giving her the same attention and she would have the same swooning reaction. It wasn’t _him_ specifically she desired attention from, just attention. 

He tasted the bitterness in his mouth and he pulled back from her, feeling her watch his facial expression carefully. “Why do you do that?” She asked him quietly. 

He regarded her with a cool expression, raising an eyebrow questioningly. 

“You just.. Shut yourself off. Make yourself resent with me as soon as you seem open to the idea of us having somewhat of a relationship. A relationship that’s more than a business arrangement.” 

“That _is_ all we are, and that’s why you’re with me specifically.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” she said, her voice sad. 

“Romance is the final thing on my mind. Actually, it isn’t on my mind at all,” he told her coldly. He grew tired of this topic. He had gotten it enough from his mother. He wouldn’t pretend as if they were happily in love and connected. No, he refused.

“It’s not.. _Romance_ that I want. But.. We are married. We are in this together,” she said slowly, watching his eyes as she crossed her arms over her breasts now as she seemed to grow insecure again. 

“Together? All you know and were instructed to know is to sit and look pretty while men make sure you are safe and provide you with a grand home,” he told her, his voice growing harsh. 

“That isn’t true, Draco!” She cried, her eyes bright in frustration. “I know so much, more than you give me credit for. I know how to _survive_. I received near perfect marks in school; I’m a talented witch. Perhaps men might see us as useless trophies _first_ , but in times like these we are prepared for this too. We are prepared for much more than you believe us prepared. _I_ am prepared for much more than _you_ believe me prepared. _I’m not stupid, Draco_. Do you think I care about your money? I have money! I’ve had money! I can’t control what is expected of me, I just do it! I’m still.. A person.” She stopped when her voice started to tremble and she looked away from him, controlling herself before speaking in a much smaller voice. “I want my life to mean something. I will go crazy with.. _Emptiness_ if not _._ I can’t survive on nothing. Is it so horrible for me to want _something_ with you? With us? To want to be a part of your life? To know my husband?”

“You don’t want to be a part of _my_ life. You only want _someone_ to be a part of your life, and I’m your only option. It has nothing to do with me.” Draco wasn’t sure why he was professing these things to her, he had hardly been aware of these bitter thoughts himself. 

“Well you’re my husband! Of course I have to do the best with what I have! We don’t choose our husbands!” 

“ _You did choose me_ ,” he hissed, his face now inches from hers. “You chose me, and now you’re complaining about me.” 

“I-I chose who I was meant to choose and impressed who I was meant to impress.” 

“Here you are, you and my mother, constantly trying to convince me that you are a person. What am I then? Since you are complaining I treat you as if you are not a person. What have you thought of me as? A prize to be won. The unwanted burden that comes with the name you get to stick to the end of your own, the _price_ that you have to pay for the status you want. That’s all I am to all of you _leeches_.” Draco could feel himself almost shaking in his anger now and he fought to calm himself down. 

_“I did what you asked me to and now I’m being punished! What kind of prize is he?!”_

_“Hopefully the ultimate one if we are lucky.”_

“My apologies that your prize is both that and a _punishment_ , Astoria. I did not force you to marry me, I did not ask for you. I barely noticed you before now. It is _you_ who went after _me._ Who you are is nothing to me. You could have been any of your clones, it’s no difference to me.” 

Astoria looked down as pain crossed her face, shaking her head slowly. “We both have our misunderstandings of each other. I want to understand you, Draco. Don’t push me away. I’m _sorry_. I didn’t _ask_ for things to be this way they just _are._ Just as you didn’t ask them to be this way,” she said weakly. 

“You believe yourself the only victim of these _things_.” 

“I don’t, I-“ 

“You _do._ Do not speak back to me. Don’t you know your place? You _chose_ to be miserable. _You chose your place._ Based on the petty little memories I’ve seen from you and based on the interest he shows for you, Nott would have given you exactly what you want me to give you. Perhaps he would have treated you like a _person_ ,” he sneered. “But perhaps you forgot him when you decided to put all of your efforts into achieving _my_ name because Astoria Malfoy is just above Astoria Nott. Well, now you have it, love. Live with it.” 

He watched Astoria tremble and her full lip quivered. She looked so deliciously _vulnerable_ in that moment and he felt something animalistic move in him at the sight. She had a gorgeous tortured face. Actually, any true emotion on her features suited her. Impulsively he grabbed her face in his hand, running his thumb over her quivering mouth. “I could be worse to you,” he murmured darkly, watching her mouth carefully. She shivered, looking confused at his touch but still leaned into it ever so slightly. 

So responsive.

“I’m not asking for you to treat me differently or make any effort.. I just am asking that you stop reminding yourself of your dislike for me. Again, I didn’t ask to be in my position, I-“

“Again, you find yourself the only victim.” 

“I just know my own experience and my own feelings. I don’t know yours. I would like to know yours.. But you are so closed off, and it’s not as if I can force it out of you. That’s something you have that I don’t. _Privacy._ My whole life my father has been in my head _constantly_ , and now you. Everything about me is open to you, but you’re upset with me for not knowing you when there is no way for me to know you,” she told him, a trace of resentment laced in her voice as her mouth moved against his thumb after not pulling away from him. 

“Privacy?” Draco chuckled darkly, entering her mind again immediately after he spoke. 

“Tori, you’re going to fall asleep in your breakfast, and you’re slumping in your seat horribly. Honestly, get yourself together. You’re embarrassing me” Sixth year Daphne Greengrass muttered to her younger sister who was tiredly sat beside her in the Great Hall, elbowing her. 

Astoria straightened up slowly, rubbing her eyes that were ringed with deep circles from lack of rest. Her hair was tied up in an uncharacteristically messy bun and her robes were looking disheveled. “Why haven’t you been sleeping! You look like such a mess!” Daphne hissed, pushing her breakfast at her. “Eat! What has gotten into you. I hope you aren’t growing depressed. At least warn me if you’re considering flinging yourself off of the Astronomy Tower.” 

Astoria ignored her nagging sister and slowly started picking at the food on the table in front of her, looking down the Slytherin table at Draco Malfoy. She was only a couple of bites in when Draco got up only minutes after sitting down after grabbing a green apple, walking rigidly from the Great Hall. 

Astoria’s face shown with frustration and exhaustion and she sat still for a few moments before getting up herself, leaving her food. “Astoria! Where on _Earth_ are you going now?!” 

Astoria ignored her sister again and her mutterings to her friends about how “odd she could be sometimes” and followed Draco, keeping her distance to not be suspected.

The memory skipped forward to Astoria writing to her father about her findings, practically falling asleep while writing before she pulled a silvery memory from her head, bottling it tiredly before attaching it to her owl’s leg and sending it and the letter off. The young girl buried her head in her arms, seemingly decided on sleeping where she sat before her sister came into her dorm loudly, looking angry. “How is it you can _miss classes_ , strut about doing whatever it is you do, look a mess every day lately, and _I’m_ still the one getting reprimanded in letters from our parents?” Daphne demanded, shaking her head, her blonde hair down on her shoulders. “It must be _so_ nice being father’s favorite.” 

Astoria lifted her head slightly but didn’t turn her head to look at her sister and laughed weakly as if she had just heard the most ridiculous thing she had heard in a while. “Yes, yes it’s very funny. I’m sure you’re just _elated_ at how easy things are for you, so easy that you don’t even have to _try_ anymore. What _have_ you been doing? Meeting some boy to shag in a dirty broom closet somewhere so you can feel _bad_ and _exciting_ for once?” Daphne sneered.

“I believe that’s _your_ area of expertise, so you would know, wouldn’t you, Daphne? _Is_ that what I’m doing?” 

Daphne laughed a short laugh in anger, looking shocked at her sister’s comment. “You’re a miserable, spoiled bitch. I _hope_ you know,” she spat out. 

“You do well to remind me often. Now, I would do anything, _anything_ ,” Astoria said slowly, her eyes closed. “For you to shut up and stop whining at me about your petty _bullshit_ so I can _sleep_.” 

Daphne grit her teeth angrily before leaving, slamming her sister’s dorm room door and leaving Astoria to fall asleep almost immediately, seemingly unbothered by Daphne’s intrusion and words. 

Draco watched his wife closely as the images faded, tightening his grip on her face. “Is that what you meant by privacy? As you gave _me_ privacy while you reported to your father about what I was doing at practically every moment during my sixth year?” 

Astoria winced under his grip and put her hand on top of his, looking up at him with sad eyes, a tiredness filling them. “I can assure you it was nothing I came with up for myself to do. I would have much rather been focusing on my studies and _sleep_ which you seemingly _never_ did.” 

Draco snorted loudly and entered her mind again, not patient enough to deal with her. He saw her face fall weakly as she braced herself for another invasion.

Astoria walked down the dark, empty halls tiredly, appearing to be searching for someone. The rings under her eyes were now even deeper than they had been previously. “I thought I would find you out, beautiful. It seems you’re always out after hours,” a mocking voice said, coming out from around the corner. 

Astoria stopped, looking confused at the older Gryffindor boy confronting her. She looked him up and down with disdain, taking a step back from his as she wrinkled her nose slightly. “If you want to get me in trouble you should know that you will be in trouble too, so it’s best if we just leave each other be and be on our own ways,” she told him, frowning. 

The boy shook his head slowly, eyeing her hungrily as if she were a meal. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, and wipe that “I’m better than you” look off of your face, you stupid bitch. I’ve always wondered what you rich, air-headed sluts were made of,” he told her, his eyes glinting nastily. “I reckon I’ll find out now.”

Astoria shook her head, looking confused and annoyed. “I don’t have time for you. Please, harass someone else. Congratulations on obviously getting your hands on some alcohol, but I am not bothering you,” she snapped and resumed her walking, attempting to move around him. 

The boy grabbed her arm roughly as she passed him, shoving her small frame against the castle wall. “Oh no, love. I want to harass you, and in fact, you _are_ bothering me. The whole lot of you bothers me. I believe I’m owed some compensation for having to deal with you,” he laughed, some of his words slurring slightly.

Astoria struggled against him, trying to reach for her wand that was buried in her pocket between them. The boy used a silencing charm on her and Astoria stilled suddenly, a look of understanding filling her tired eyes. She began to struggle violently, kicking and thrashing at him and the boy pulled her back only to slam her hard against the castle wall again. Astoria’s mouth opened in pain, but her cries were silent in result of the spell. The boy pressed a vial against her lips and she clamped closed, yanking her head away. He forced the glass against her lips roughly, splitting her lower lip as he forced it through while holding her head forcibly still as he poured the potion down her throat, his nails digging into the skin of her face. “There you go, princess. It will only be a bit now and you will feel nice and relaxed,” he purred, pressing his lips against her ear, his hands moving over her struggling body sloppily and invasively. 

Astoria froze when she saw Draco returning from where he had disappeared to, passing the two against the wall and the boy’s hands continued to roam her body, not noticing Draco. Draco spotted them and scoffed loudly in disgust, shaking his head. “It seems neither of the Greengrass girls can keep their legs closed,” he commented distastefully before he directed his attention back to where he was walking. 

The Gryffindor boy was thrown off Astoria as her hand had found her wand and stunned him, his silencing charm weak and non lasting. Draco turned at the sound the boy made when he hit the opposing wall across from her and Astoria quickly pointed her wand at Draco, stunning him as well. She scrambled to where Draco was laying, kneeling beside him and obliviating him carefully before moving from the hall and turning the corner, holding onto the wall as the potion seemed to be taking affect on her. 

Once away from the two stunned boys, Astoria stopped against the wall she was clinging to, dropping slowly to the ground weakly and she watched as her wand rolled out of her hand. Astoria squeezed her eyes squeezed shut as a few lurking boys approached her, only to swiftly leave the scene as Theodore Nott came up behind them, snapping at them to clear out, another Slytherin next to him. He knelt next to her, looking confused and suspicious. “What happened, Astoria?” He asked her. 

Astoria looked at him through half closed eyes, her eyes seemingly unfocused. He shook his head and wiped the blood on her lip, standing to look around. He saw the Gryffindor boy getting up from around the corner while gripping his head in pain, Draco already gone. Theodore narrowed his eyes and looked at his friend next to him who was assessing the situation as well. Theodore spotted and picked up the fallen vial on the ground and examined it, sniffing it. He looked at the Gryffindor slowly in disgust and knelt to grab Astoria’s wand before gathering the small girl in his arms while the Slytherin that came with him walked towards the younger Gryffindor, drawing his wand. 

The memory blurred forward and Daphne was pacing in front of Astoria, stopping when she noticed her waking up and went over to her, kneeling next to her. “What is _wrong_ with you, Tori? How could you go and allow this to be done to you? You can’t go out after hours! Especially not alone! This could have ended horribly!” She breathed out, looking both angry at and worried for her little sister. 

Astoria shook her head, her face emotionless as she stood up shakily, wincing as she stood. She licked the dried blood on her lip and shuddered, moving past her confused and protesting sister and going slowly to the bathroom. She got into the showers, turning on the water to a steaming heat before she sank to the floor under the water, covering her face as she began to weep and shake.

Draco pulled from Astoria’s head and looked at her panicked face, emotions rising in him. “I’m sorry. I had to obliviate you. You thought.. You could have told people that I was _sleeping_ with that boy, and that would have been.. Merlin knows I can’t even be _sexually assaulted_ without being called a whore,” she rushed out, searching his face worriedly as she shrunk back from him slightly, looking fearful. But he wasn’t thinking about that, wasn’t caring about the fact she had obliviated him.

Draco’s eyes were unfocused as he thought of what he had witnessed. He was angry at his younger self who had sneered at the girl, his _wife_ , as she was about to be raped by that disgusting excuse for a male. He had done nothing to stop it, hadn’t even realized what had very blatantly been happening.

Of course _Nott_ had been there to help. Him being there was becoming _quite_ the aggravating pattern.

“I had to think quickly, I’m sorry, and if you’re going to be angry with me-“ 

“Stop talking,” he told her firmly, closing his eyes as he fought to calm his anger. He needed to find this boy. 

He needed to ruin him. 

It was known that the women from their community were treated horribly by a lot of the people who had opposing views, but for _that_ to happen at _Hogwarts_ when she was so young? He certainly wasn’t aware of that sort of behavior being common. Who raised these revolting and pathetic idiots? And they had the nerve to criticize _them_? “Who was that,” he demanded flatly. 

“I don’t know his name..” She replied slowly, looking guarded. “Just some random boy, probably drunk, a random Gryffindor who was feeling brave.” 

“Feeling brave,” Draco retorted, laughing coldly. “Yes, forcing a fourth year half their size to take a potion to make it easier for them to _rape_ them is incredibly brave.” 

Astoria watched him and Draco noticed that her body had relaxed slightly after he had not gotten angry with her over the fact she had used magic on him. “He didn’t rape me. I got him off of me,” she told him firmly. “Perhaps he was not intending to go as far as rape. He was only a fifth year.”

Draco moved from her, his mind going over and over what he had seen. How often had things like that happened? What had she been more afraid of? Being raped or being labeled a whore by him? A coldness swept over him as he had a strong feeling of which answer he was more inclined to believe. He handed her her clothing and redressed himself, picturing her tired eyes and messy appearance from following him so much that year. He felt both angry and sorry for her, knowing well she hadn’t really cared to follow him around. How had he not noticed being followed so closely?

He was an idiot. 

“Dinner,” he told her flatly, leaving the piano room to go to the dining hall and leaving her there to dress herself. 


	14. Chapter 14

 

Astoria sat across from Draco quietly as they ate their dinner. They had not spoken a word to each other for at least half an hour. She was fine with that, she was not bothered by their quiet moments as long as there was something to listen to between them. The light tapping of their silverware was enough for her to focus on for her to not grow uncomfortable.It was such a confusing relationship they had, such a confusing way he acted towards her, as he seemed to have an indifference to her. When he looked at her only a while before he had seemed so attracted to her, _hungry_ for her. He had made her feel desirable, beautiful. 

She had always believed herself to be a beautiful girl, but she had to be. She was beautiful just as most of the other girls in her circle were. It was never something she was incredibly confident about or something she felt it necessary to flaunt. She just _was_ attractive, attractive enough to pass as a suitable looking pure-blood daughter. She certainly never felt herself beautiful in a sense to be desired sexually.

But Draco had made her feel different, he had made her feel it. He had made her feel like she wasn’t simply up to par, but that she was _more_ than that. That she had made him lustful with her beauty, and she had felt no insecurities just in those moments. Now, sitting across from him, she felt like she was nothing special again. _Replaceable_.

Perhaps he was just a convincing lover.

He was a _remarkable_ lover. She had no clue her body could feel the way he had made it feel, no clue she could forget herself and her shame completely as she had watched herself move with him in pure ecstasy in that mirror. She hadn’t had any experience in sex before now, but she knew the experiences based on what girls around her had spoken about, and she had never expected to actually enjoy doing that with her husband based on what they had said. Well, of course Draco and a few other of his similars had their reputations as being adequate lovers, but she still had never thought much of the task. She had always seen it as a duty, a chore almost. She had definitely never expected him to be considerate and focus on her pleasures, though she supposed he got a power trip over forcing her to watch herself become a mess of lust in her reflection as he had his way with her from behind. He surely did not mind proving his dominance, during the first time they had sex as well, but even during the first time he had been gentle and considerate with her. 

No, it was certainly _not_ a chore, she decided. She shifted and realized she probably should have cleaned herself up properly after their _relations._ She felt a blush creep onto her cheeks and she ducked her head slightly to not be noticed. 

“Why are your cheeks colored? Is it the fact that you just watched yourself get fucked by me by behind or the fact that you wish me to fuck you again?” Draco asked her, his voice level and casual. 

Astoria choked on her food and covered her mouth, her eyes wide. Must he be so vulgar? “We are at the table for goodness’ sake,” she coughed out, grabbing her glass of water. 

“Mmm. Correct observation. So you want me to push you over the table and get it done that way then?”

She stared down at her food, biting into her cheek as she shifted in her chair, mortified at his comments. “Are you planning on answering me when I speak to you? Is that not a proper expectation from a husband to his wife? For her to answer him when he speaks to her?” He asked, cocking an arrogant brow at her. 

“I was quite sure you weren’t honestly expecting an answer to _that_ ,” she muttered, scowling. 

“Oh, but I am, love.” 

“I hate to interrupt the lovely family dinner,” Blaise said as his voice came into earshot as he walked into the dining room, his face looking unamused. “But there is news.” 

Blaise dropped the newspaper on the table in front of her husband and she watched Draco pick it up slowly, reading it carefully before shaking his head. “Perfect. We aren’t allowed five minutes of peace are we?” 

“It seems a bit out of no where for them, no?”

“Mmm,” Draco said, confirming whatever Blaise was referring to. 

“It says they’ve cleared out completely and seemingly it was them who killed all of them, but when have they ever showed interest in that? I can barely picture them in my head let alone remember them in the Death Eater lineup.”

Theodore came in shortly after Blaise and Astoria squirmed, wanting desperately to know what they were on about. Of course the _woman_ need not know about _big boy_ matters. “Ten,” Theodore said flatly. “Perfect. The Aurors won’t be leaving our doorsteps any time soon, and this fan club doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere.” Theodore’s irritated eyes fell on her for a moment before they dropped to her neck which was covered in evidence of what Draco had done to it in their time of intimacy. He looked away quickly, bitterness covering his features as Draco and Blaise spoke. He seemed genuinely jealous now, which was odd to her. She had thought his small advancements towards her were only to bother Draco, but if that were the case he wouldn’t look the way he did now. Genuine. She frowned and she thought back to the memories involving them. When she had encountered Theodore in the gardens she hadn’t remembered the slight friendship they had as children, or how he had helped her that night in her fourth year. 

What else had she forgotten? 

She never could keep her thoughts and memories in line. When she tried to sort out her memories she always ended up overwhelmed and with a headache. As a result of this her head was usually in the now, but what if Draco had been right? What if she _had_ forgotten Theodore over focusing on him? Had she forgotten or simply overlooked as it meant nothing to her during her ambitions of achieving her name? Theodore could have actually _wanted_ her. 

Why?

Astoria focused her attentions back on what was being said now, trying to make out exactly what they were on about. She her got up from her seat at the table impatiently, excusing herself quietly and leaving the room. Her exit was hardly noticed by Draco as he was fully focused on the conversation he was having with his friends, completely forgetting her as men did when they had _serious matters_ to discuss that never involved _little girls_ like her. She went to Draco’s study to find the pile of mail left on his desk by his owl, untouched by him and looked for the newspaper for today. “Ten muggleborn families slaughtered by quiet pureblood family suspected as part of Death Eater rebirth,” she murmured to herself, scowling. “Ableworths?” 

Doubtful.

Astoria felt fear now. No, she didn’t believe they had gotten up and joined the Death Eaters on their own. She thought them forced, and if they were forced that definitely meant her family members, old and new, were in danger. 

Why?

She couldn’t understand the idea of these Death Eaters. They couldn’t surely believe they’d ever become successful. They had become too outnumbered, they were simply costing pure-blood lives and reputations at this point. Why would they risk themselves when they could simply live quietly in peace?

Astoria left Draco’s study slowly, reading the statements from the Aurors as she returned to the dining room. “Astoria. Go to my bedroom. We are leaving-“

Astoria blinked at him and held her finger up to him in a “one moment” motion as he spoke before apparating from the Manor in front of the group of men.

Draco stared at the place his wife was previously standing, shocked. Had she truly just done that? Right in front of them? Rage fell over him. 

The _audacity_ of her. 

Blaise choked out with laughter. “What an obedient wife you have, truly, Draco,” he scoffed, his amused chuckles turning to snickers when he saw the shock and anger on Draco’s face. “Pretty sure my _mother_ listens to her husbands better than that, and she’s a horrid wife.”

“You ought to keep her closer than that, Malfoy. She will get herself caught,” Nott said, a look of disapproval on his face. 

“You ought to keep your envious nose out of my business and your hands away from my property, Nott,” he snarled, growing more furious as he remembered Nott’s multiple encounters with his wife as well as the look on his face when Blaise had mentioned her bruises. He could tell now that his attractions went further than a purpose of just to annoy him. He _cared_ for Astoria, cared for what was rightfully _his_. Disobedient little bitch or not, she belonged to him.

He certainly wasn’t one to share.

“She is none of your concern and she never will be. She is _mine._ Do you plan on getting that in your delusional little mind or do I have to force it there?”

Nott’s eyes flashed with resentment but a slow smirk spread across his face and he tilted his head to the side slightly. “Is that a threat, Malfoy? Do you believe yourself intimidating to me? Given your reputation, I can’t honestly say I’m too worried to be quite honest with you.” 

Draco chuckled darkly, ignoring his desire to reach for his wand. “Better you be surprised then. There certainly is power in being underestimated.” 

“I cannot for the life of me understand why you two are arguing over the twelve year old,” Blaise drawled, rolling his eyes as he sat in a chair, seeming bored with the conversation taking place.

“Mmm. Because yet again Nott finds himself second to me, and it _kills_ him. Even when it comes to a girl he _fancied_ as a child, still second. Too bad that girl wanted the best and unfortunately, the best is not him. I didn’t even _look_ at her, didn’t even notice her existence, and she _still_ chose me over him and he just can’t _stomach_ it,” Draco purred, staring Nott down as he mocked him. 

“Are you two honestly arguing over _Astoria_?” Daphne Greengrass asked from the doorway, eyeing them oddly. “How bizarre.” 

“Greengrass. So glad to see you join the party. I was getting so bored with this nonsense,” Blaise told as he looked her up and down, smirking. The girl squinted at him in response and looked at Draco, tilting her chin in the air as she smiled.

“ _Draco_ , how thoughtful of you to add me to your wards. Truly, I’m touched. You _do_ care,” she said sweetly, sarcastically.

“Mmm. Your sister isn’t here,” Draco replied coolly. Alarm replaced the smile on the blonde’s features and she stepped towards him.

“What do you mean she’s not here?”

“I was under the impression that we both spoke English, Greengrass.”

“And I was under the impression that my little sister ought not to be out _alone_ when people of our circle are going missing, Malfoy,” she said harshly, shaking her head and looking to Nott.

“Mmm. I can assure you, I was under the same,” Draco told her flatly and understanding filled her eyes.

“Hmm. Well. If she’s disobeying you of all people then you could bet she’s out doing something father would want her to do, as that’s all she knows how to do ultimately. How interesting that it turns out she’s not the perfect wife after all, funnily enough.”

Aha. Her father and what _he_ wanted of her? That would not do. She belonged to _him_ now. Her loyalty and obedience were _his._ Had he not made that perfectly clear to her already? He was quite sure they had gone over that bit perhaps even more than once. “Where would she have gone,” he asked coldly, wondering what he should to do Astoria in result of her behavior. He had believed they had an understanding, and to think he was beginning to a grow a fondness for her. 

He _did_ have a fondness for her and that was why she needed to _listen_ to him and not put herself into danger. 

“You’re asking me where my sister goes? Oh, Malfoy,” Daphne snorted. “Sometimes I wonder if even _she_ knows the answer to that question.” 

Draco shook his head impatiently, going to pour himself a drink. “I truly mean that as well. I really wonder.. My father is quite into dark magic,” Daphne continued, her voice quieter now. 

Yes, it would seem as if Astoria’s father used her for his own gain quite a bit. He was obviously not above using experimental magic on something as fragile as her mind.

“Oh please, Greengrass. Just accept you’re not daddy’s favorite and move on with it,” Blaise scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

Daphne sneered at him and went to sit down. “I don’t believe you’re meant to leave your parents,” Draco said stiffly, watching as she made herself at home. “Especially now.” 

“Yes, well. What do I have to lose?” She asked, her voice bitter.

“Quite true. Your life won’t be going up now that you have to try and live with fucking _other_ men.” 

“Always so humble,” Daphne said through her teeth, her face flushing angrily at his mention of that night. 

“Alright, in-laws. Play nicely,” Blaise said. 

Astoria appeared back into the room with a small pop, noticing her sister with surprise. “Daphne,” she said frowning. “Why are you here? It isn’t safe.” 

Draco watched her through darkened eyes as she reentered so casually, not even bothering to look at him. Safe? She wanted to talk about safety now?

Daphne snorted. “You’re lecturing me about safety, _little sister_ while your husband here was just oh so worried _sick_ about you,” she said, cooing the word “sick” and looking at Draco in mock pity. “Truly you should have seen him. I believe he had tears at one point. Nott as well.”

“You’re always so impulsive,” Astoria shook her head, ignoring her other comments as she usually did, looking frustrating. 

“Impulsive? Me? What about going out alone in the night right after multiple people were murdered by the new Death Eaters? What would you call that, Tori?” 

“That was not impulsive at all. Quite calculated actually,” Astoria quipped, crossing her arms. 

“Oh, was it now?” Draco asked softly, a cold rage filling him at his wife’s words. “I am ever so pleased to hear that your insolence was _calculated_.” 

Daphne whistled. “You’re in trouble,” she said to her sister in a singsong voice, looking almost gleeful. 

Astoria frowned, noticing him finally and she took a step back, fear crossing her features. “Draco I-“

“Will be silent,” he finished for her, watching her coldly. 

Ah, so she was afraid of him now. He thought her decision was calculated, according to her own words?

“Malfoy, as much as I enjoy seeing Astoria mess up for once I would truly like to speak with my sister before you murder her, which believe me, I understand the desire. Though I must say I feel truly uncomfortable seeing such atrocities on her neck and part of me wants to leave immediately because I am getting the most horrendous visuals as my imagination is left to wander at the sight,” Daphne told him, wrinkling her nose as she examined the marks on her sister’s neck at the fault of his mouth from earlier. 

“Unfortunate,” he replied flatly. “Astoria was just heading to bed.” 

Astoria looked at Daphne regrettably before going to kiss her cheek before she left slowly to go upstairs.

“Malfoy,” Daphne said frustrated. “It’s not fair for _me_ to be punished. It’s not _easy_ for me to sneak away!”

He examined the protesting girl for a moment, raising an eyebrow. “Unfortunate,” he repeated, slower this time as he pronounced every letter of the word. 

Yes, it was truly unfortunate. 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

“You could have at least confronted her about where she had gone while she was still down here, Draco. Now I’m curious,” Blaise said dully, levitating Astoria’s water glass.

“My wife and where she goes is my own concern,” Draco snapped at him. Since when are wives so involved the conversations of men and why was his wife starting the trend? He had never liked people invaded his privacy, and he wanted to keep his wife to himself.

“Well, I am certainly not leaving until I get time with her,” Daphne said, raising her nose. “I came _all_ the way here and escaped my parents to do so because it is so unbelievably dull, and you know how dull it is when I come to _Astoria_ for entertainment. So, if you don’t mind I suppose I will find my way to her room.” Daphne got up from where she sat, attempting to leave in the direction her sister had gone before he stopped her with his wand. 

“I do mind. She is in _my_ bedroom and you certainly will _not_ be going in there. Not to mention the fact she is being punished, and I need to deal with her before you go and have a loving, _heartwarming_ time with her,” he said, his voice turning to a sneer near the end. 

“Punished? Oh come off it, Malfoy. Please tell me you aren’t one of _those_ men, how horribly theatric! Just give her a slap and get on with your life. Punished how? You’ll make her write lines stating that you are the king of all kings and she will never disobey you again? Or punished as in you’ll chain her up and whip her? In that case, what if she’s into it? What will you do then? Your elaborate punishment will turn into a reward and you’ll be screwed. So, I suggest you go with _my_ advice and give up this horribly obnoxious _punishment_ idea and allow me to see my damn sister. What do you mean _your_ bedroom? How adorable. She sleeps in the same bed as you every night then?” 

“My patience with you is wearing thin.”

Daphne rolled her eyes at him, looking at Blaise and Nott. “When did he become so serious? Honestly he’s acting _ancient_. My father is almost more lighthearted than him.” 

“Wondered the same, Daphne. Here I thought Blaise was meant to be the stoic one,” Theodore said, smirking at Blaise as he gave him a look. “Though I’m sure we would all prefer if you would spare us the visuals on Malfoy’s possible punishment ideas.” 

“Why is that, Nott? Do you have a problem with the thought of _my wife_ enjoying such sexual encounters with me? To be whipped? _Begging_ for it perhaps? Does that _bother_ you? Because I can assure you, she certainly is very open to anything I want to do to her and has been enjoying every moment of it so far,” he told Nott, his voice languid as he watched Nott’s jaw tic, though his face neutral. Ah, he could fight his reaction all he’d like, but Draco knew how angry he was. 

It was his turn to have the upper hand. 

Daphne made a gagging noise and Blaise wrinkled his face. “Draco, I don’t enjoy this talk of pedophilia.” 

“Malfoy, honestly, I would love to lose some extra weight by throwing up my dinner, but I can’t wait long. My mother is a b-“

“Beautiful and a much too forgiving woman,” came an overly sweet voice as Freya Greengrass found them in the room, her face covered in an icy smile. “Is what I’m sure you were describing me as. Correct, darling?” 

Daphne let out a slow agitated sigh, closing her eyes in annoyance before she turned her head slowly to look at her waiting mother. “Of course, mother. Only two of your abundance of positive qualities.” 

Draco examined the woman, comparing her to the young girl he had watched in his mother’s memories. She had aged gracefully as there were only slight differences in her appearance as a teenager and her air of confidence just as strong, though she was dressed much more modestly than she had in her Hogwarts skirt that she had seemingly shortened and her made up face along with her expression was much less suggestive. 

“How are you, boys?” The woman asked, smiling tightly at each of them, the smile not reaching her green eyes that matched her eldest daughter’s.

Blaise gave a slight shrug in response, sucking his teeth as he eyed the woman, his shameless eyes running down her figure. 

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Greengrass. And you?” Nott said, smiling charmingly at her. 

Freya blinked and tilted her head towards Nott curiously, her eyes flashing with amusement. “Oh, how wonderful. A Nott male speaking to me, how refreshing! Well, dear I’m doing as fine as most of us are, how polite of you to ask,” Freya told him, her voice silken. 

Theodore’s mouth twitched at her response but kept his smile, the typical arse kisser that he was and always had been. 

“Would be quite a bit better if my new wife wasn’t leaving the Manor directly after my orders telling her to do otherwise,” Draco told her flatly. 

Freya watched him for a moment, worry clouding her eyes for a moment before she tsked. “Oh, Astoria. A horrid brat at times.”

“More like most of the time,” Daphne scoffed, fiddling with a piece of her hair. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure she still just needs time to be broken in as a new wife,” Freya said, smacking the hair out of Daphne’s fingers and ordering her to sit up straight. “Allow her down though won’t you, Draco? As I’m here I might as well see her.”

He waited for a moment, deciding on whether or not to argue with the woman, before calling the house-elf to go and fetch her. It would be cruel to not allow her to see her daughter, and he doubted this woman would easily accept no as an answer. “Oh, mother! You’re ruining his _punishment_ ,” Daphne cried dramatically before smirking at Draco triumphantly, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as the house-elf went to bring her sister back down. 

“I’m quite sure he will be able to resume as soon as we have left,” her mother told her, looking Astoria up and down as she entered the room again slowly, surprise covering her face as she saw her mother.

“Let’s speak in another room, shall we?” Freya said, stepping to the side to leave.

“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Greengrass. We weren’t discussing anything important at the moment. You aren’t interrupting us I can assure you,” Draco told her. No, they would stay there and speak right in front of him. 

“You can bluntly put it as that you want to listen to our conversation. It’s fine,” Freya quipped, sitting herself at the table.

Astoria passed Draco carefully, avoiding his eyes before going to her mother to kiss her face before getting her a glass of water. “You look well, mother. I know things have been stressful, but it doesn’t show on you,” she told her kindly, sitting beside her. Draco noticed she had covered the marks he had left on her neck with his mouth. Shame, he had enjoyed watching Nott squirm at the sight. 

Freya scoffed, scowling at her. “Of course I look well. Why would I not look well under stress? Who am I? Narcissa?” 

Draco blinked and his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise before anger settled into his stomach. Had the woman just insulted his mother in front of him? 

“Mother,” Astoria frowned and looked near Draco, but not directly at him as she shifted uncomfortably. “That is a very insensitive thing to say.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t insult my mother in my own home,” Draco said coldly, examining the woman with distaste. 

“Now, Draco. I attempted to take this conversation to another room, didn’t I? I meant no offense, of course,” Freya said innocently before looking to her daughter, “Thank you for chastising me, darling, but I remember myself the mother. Draco was just telling me how you blatantly disobeyed him. Why do you want to cause problems for yourself? I’d like to keep you in one piece hopefully.” 

“There is nothing she could do that would warrant _not_ being in one piece, Mrs. Greengrass,” Nott said stiffly. 

What a _gentleman._

“Aw, how sweet. Acting as if you’re unique in morals compared to the rest of the men around you. Must be a family trait. Yes, that may be true, Theodore, but stating that fact doesn’t change much does it?” 

Draco’s irritation for the woman faded slightly as she criticized Nott for his holier-than-thou attitude, watching his wife carefully for any emotional reaction towards Nott’s words.

“Adrian Pucey was informing me that his mother had been asking about Daphne, mother,” Astoria told Freya brightly, changing the subject. 

Daphne bristled and she stared at Astoria. “Oh how dare you,” she said, her voice low. 

Astoria’s mouth twitched as she fought a smirk and she returned her sister’s stare with a mockingly thoughtful look. “What? The Pucey family is respectable, Daphne. I’m only trying to help.” 

“I will _not_ marry Adrian Pucey,” Daphne hissed, her eyes filled with resentment towards her sister. “He’s an idiot and nearly disowned!”

“You two will have so much in common then, sister,” Astoria said, tilting her head as if she didn’t know what was wrong.

“Hmm. The Pucey name isn’t horrible,” Freya said, ignoring their arguing as she examined the ceiling as she spoke, deep in thought. “It is certainly better than nothing, though the son _is_ nowhere to be found half of the time. I also find his mother quite horrendous, though that doesn’t mean much seeing as I find most of the women I’m forced to interact with barely tolerable. Speaking of horrendous mothers, how is yours Mr. Nott? Still drowning in her own vomit from her constant state of intoxication?” 

Nott froze, his gaze hardening in shock and anger. He searched her face, not seeming to know how to respond. Draco was alarmed at her rudeness, he had definitely never noticed this woman and her mouth until now. 

“That is very low of you, mother,” Astoria said quietly, looking away from her mother. 

“Yes, yes. ‘Oh, Freya. How could you go so low?’ Yes, I’ve been asked it many times before,” Freya said, waving her hand dismissively. “Chide me again and I will show you low, Astoria.”

“Is that what Joseph Nott asked you when you betrayed him and his family?” Blaise asked, narrowing his eyes at her curiously as he gauged her reaction carefully. 

Freya looked over to him, a slow smirk spreading across her face as she eyed Blaise in amusement. “No,” she said after a moment, “He said nothing to be when I betrayed him and his family, Mr. Zabini. Actually, he has never said anything to me at all to this day.” 

Astoria frowned at the conversation, seemingly chewing the inside of her cheek and Draco twitched with desire to stop her from it. Such an irritating habit.

Blaise looked intrigued, leaning forward slightly. “Very blunt of you, Mrs. Greengrass.” 

“Well. I grow tired of our wretchedly fake community quite often. What’s the purpose of lying about it? You were bold enough to ask.” When Freya seemed to understand Nott was not planning on answering her as he sat quietly, seemingly deep in thought as he avoided her gaze, she turned back to Daphne. “I feel like it’s a decent idea,” she told her firmly, returning to the previous subject of Daphne and marriage. 

“I would rather end up like Abigail Maisry,” Daphne said coolly sitting back defiantly while still staring down Astoria. 

Astoria’s face curled in disgust, looking away from her with a sound of revulsion. “Please, _must_ you say such things? That’s absolutely horrendous to mention.” 

“Abigail Masry..?” Blaise asked questionably. Draco recognized the last name, but not the first. How _did_ females remember all of the gossip they seemed to retain? 

“Yes, Abigail. She married Mr. Masry when his wife died. He allegedly did very terrible things to her such as disgusting nonsense like feeding her spoonfuls of semen until she was so out of her mind that she hung herself. Allegedly, but widely believed. It’s quite an exaggeration as well as a horribly spoiled thing of my daughter to say, and if she says it again I would be _happy_ to arrange her to a similarly horrible man. Or, better, perhaps Mr. Masry’s latest wife will pass soon,” Freya said, looking coldly at her daughter, her voice growing harsher the more she spoke. Draco saw Blaise mouth “spoonfuls of semen” from the corner of his eye in disgust and his own stomach turned. “And do not think I am bluffing, darling. If you want to find out what a _real_ horrible man is like then so be it. Good riddance.” Freya smacked her hands together three times in a brushing motion. “Honestly, you’re complaining about a boy because you think him an _idiot_? You think you want a man who is _intelligent_? What do you think being with an intelligent man will get you? Your uncle is intelligent. Perhaps I will have him advise me on who to marry you off to. Would you like that?” 

Daphne stared at the table, all of the defiance gone from her face. “No, ma’am.” 

“Mhm. No ma’am. You think your attitude is going to get you anywhere? Do you think it will earn you respect from a man? No, it will earn you the title of being a “challenge”, and _intelligent_ men that you so desire _love_ challenges and they would love to rip that spirit right out of you,” Freya spat icily. “You call your sister spoiled, and here you are claiming you’d rather end up like _Abigail Maisry_. How dare you.”

“I’m sorry,” Daphne told her quietly, looking smaller than her younger sister in the moment. 

“Sorry,” Freya laughed coldly. “You ought not waste your time being _sorry_ , just as a man will never be sorry for _anything._ If all of us were caught up on apologies, we would be suffocated by guilt. No, don’t be sorry. Just _listen_ and use your _damn head._ How is it your sister learned to use hers before she had a wand yet you are nineteen and still haven’t even located yours?”

Daphne shook her head, seemingly fighting back tears. Astoria watched her sister, looking sad and regretful for bringing up the subject. Freya noticed Astoria’s expression and shook her head. “Did I _not_ just speak about wasting time on guilt? I have idiots for children,” she snapped, her eyes angry. “Oh, stop the tears, Daphne. It’s my job to ruin your self esteem as your mother.”

She stood from her seat, kissing Astoria’s head before leaving the room, Daphne standing slowly to follow. “Oh, and don’t forget to _apologize_ for your mother’s _awful_ behavior, darling Astoria!” Freya called before they left the Manor, the room silent for a while. 

What a show.

Astoria pressed her lips together, looking uncomfortable. “Yes, she _is_ a bitch,” Blaise confirmed, looking highly amused. “What a charming mother you have. Fantastic really.”

Draco watched her carefully as she frowned at Blaise’s comment, wondering how she had come out the way she did with such an abrasive woman down her throat. 

“What did she take from you, Astoria?” Nott asked, his voice vacant of its usual charm. 

Astoria looked at him, surprised at his question. “Nothing. I don’t know what you mean,” she answered and tilted her head, her voice sounding sincere. 

Draco knew better. 

“Where did you go,” Blaise asked, pointing his wand at her limply, jabbing it in her direction.

“I thought I already stated that it was my concern and not yours,” Draco said shortly, standing. “Come upstairs, Astoria. I’m sure you two can show yourselves out.” 

Draco ignored Blaise’s protests as he made his way to his room, his previous anger for her creeping back as he listened to Astoria follow closely behind him. Once she joined him in his bedroom, he magically slammed his door shut behind her, seeing her jump at the sound as he turned. “Where,” he asked calmly, attempting to breathe evenly to control his temper. 

“I.. The Ableworths..” She said, avoiding his eyes as she shifted in her standing position.

“ _What?_ ” Draco hissed and he moved so he was standing before her, his face close to hers. “You went _right_ to the source of the most recent Death Eater activity? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you? Do you think you’re important enough to me that I’d rescue you if they were to hold you for ransom to get to me if they caught you? Are you absolutely mental?” 

“I was safe! I was careful and safe. I know how to get around their home.. The Aurors were there, so the Death Eaters wouldn’t have gotten to me,” she told him quickly, shrinking back as he approached. 

The _Aurors._

“Oh, much better, have the Aurors catch you breaking into a family’s home as they’re already investigating us, a family that just murdered a handful of their beloved mudbloods,” he sneered, disbelieving of the fact that she could be so stupid. So _reckless._ “What exactly was the purpose of this? Just for a laugh I suppose? Because you’re fucking _mad_?”

“They didn’t see me either. I was looking for something. A magical object the Ableworths had in their family for years. I didn’t get much time with it before my mother took it, but it absorbsthe feelings and dialogue of the people near it in recent times. I couldn’t figure it out well, but I know that the Ableworths did not leave their home on their own accord. They were forced, and I’m sure they were forced to kill those people as well. Obviously, that’s very bad for us.” 

“You risked yourself for a pathetic trinket,” he said through his teeth, ignoring the rest of the information. He didn’t care about that now. He cared about _her_ , and how she had put herself in danger for a magical object.

“My father had wanted it for quite a long time.. And I learned useful information.” 

“I don’t care what your father wants!” he snarled. “I don’t care about _information._ You are _my_ wife and I will _not_ stand for you to be put in danger. This is not a war, and if it were, _you would stay out of it_.”

Far out of it. Less involved than his mother had been. 

“I’m sorry,” she said weakly, her light blue eyes begging him for forgiveness. He stepped away from her, looking away from her eyes. She walked towards him slowly, following him, and he stood still as she approached him, his chest slightly heaving with his fuming. 

She placed her hand on his chest gently, looking worried. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, searching his eyes. 

He watched her, his breathing evening out as his anger faded at her touch. He was suddenly very exhausted, exhausted of his anger. He wanted to press her against him and bury his face in her hair and leave his emotions behind. He was tired of them. “I’m adding wards, and you won’t be able to leave once they are up,” he told her, his voice level now. 

“Okay.. Is that all you’re going to do?” She asked him, watching him with a guarded expression.

“I’m not going to _beat_ you, Astoria,” he told her, his voice disgusted even though he knew he had no place to act as if it was unwarranted for her to suspect him to do so. He had proven himself certainly capable.

“You won’t kick me out?” 

“Of the Manor?” Did he _not_ just inform her that he was adding wards that would make her unable to leave?

“Your bedroom,” she said, her eyebrows gathered together in concern.

Draco was quiet, surprised that this was what she had been worried about over him physically harming her. “No. It’s safer in here. You’re safer with me.” 

Astoria visibly relaxed and her hand slid from his chest to drop to her side, his chest suddenly feeling cold where her hand had been. 

Why had she stopped touching him?

“I’m sorry for what my mother said about yours,” she said quietly, looking down. “She says things that are uncalled for quite a lot.” 

“I believe she told you to stop feeling apologetic,” he replied, remembering her mother’s anger. 

“I don’t want to be like her,” Astoria murmured, shaking her head slightly.

“She seems like a smart woman.” 

“She seems like she lost hope long ago, and that’s if she ever had it. I don’t want to be like that. I want to have happiness. I want to have love.. I know she loves us, but it’s almost in a mournful way. I don’t want to be bitter all the time. I want to be sorry when I do something wrong. I want to feel guilt. I want to feel everything.. I don’t want to be _empty._ ”

Draco thought of the things Freya had said to his mother in their youth about having hope. His mother had had hope, and she had suffered just as Freya had predicted. He didn’t want Astoria to suffer, but he wasn’t sure if he could control that. He wasn’t sure if he could give her what she wanted. “How did your father know,” he asked, changing the subject.

“What?”

“How did he know to have your mother take the object from you.” 

“He just knows.” 

Draco shook his head, unnerved by this family that he was suddenly attached to in result of his marriage. “Mother was right to yell at Daphne for using that poor girl’s fate in her whining. Adrian is not a terrible man. There are some wizards who are.. Truly horrific men. We are lucky.” 

“We?” Draco raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Yes we. You are far from terrible,” she told him, nodding, seemingly talking more to herself than him.  
“There’s still time for me to think of disgusting and torturous punishments for you,” he said, feeling slightly amused.

Astoria grimaced. “Please. Don’t make me think of it, and don’t joke! That is so.. Dark.” 

“I’ve been called a dark wizard.”

“You’re Neville Longbottom next to a man like that,” she said softly. 

He snorted, pulling away from her. She was standing there looking _grateful_ for him, grateful that he didn’t do such awful things to her until she felt she had to end her life like that girl her mother had spoke of.

It was fucked. 

He undressed himself, trying to control his thoughts and emotions that were all coming at him at once, the thoughts and emotions that exhausted him. He got into the bed, leaning back in it as she joined him shortly after once she had changed into a nightdress, getting on the bed gingerly as if moving it too much would set him off. “Are you still angry with me?” 

“Yes.” 

He heard her sigh and he looked down at her, his face emotionless. “I want you to learn that you are my wife, not your father’s daughter. It’s why you have my name now. Not his.” 

“I know..” 

“You obviously don’t,” he replied, shaking his head. “If you did you would have listened to me instead of thinking of what he wanted. You are meant to think of what _I_ want.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“That’s because I’m making it impossible for you to do it again.” 

Astoria didn’t reply for a while and he moved to lay on his side, facing away from her. 

“Draco?” 

“What.” 

“I hope that one day I will be important enough for you to rescue me if I was in danger,” she said, her voice so soft that he could barely hear her. He closed his eyes at the sound of it, not replying. He knew that day was already there, and that he had only said those things to hurt her in his anger. 

He didn’t tell her that.


	16. Chapter 16

**** “You have odd spaces in your memories,” Draco commented to her, a couple days later. Astoria’s brow furrowed in confusion and she shook her head, only just waking up. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, stretching her body out. Draco seemed to like going through her head when he woke up before her, she noticed. She was used to not having privacy, but it was odd waking up to it. “It’s as if someone did a messy memory charm. Your father?”

“My father is excellent at memory charms,” she said slowly, fear creeping over her. What did he mean? Someone obliviated her against her knowledge?

Why were so many people always meddling with her mind?

Draco watched her as she grew upset, his cool grey eyes searching hers. “Do you have an idea then if it wasn’t him?”

“No..” She truly didn’t. She did not have a lot of relationships with people to have a specific person to suspect. Though, it would make sense if someone had noticed her witness something they didn’t want her to witness, or overhear something they didn’t want her to overhear. “It could be anyone, really.”

“I might be able to uncover them. They seem quite badly done,” he told her, looking slightly angry. She wondered if the anger was over feeling protective over her, she hoped it was.

“I don’t know if I want to know,” she told him, knowing full well she did want to know. She definitely _needed_ to know. 

“I do. What if they did something to you?” 

“Like what..?” She asked cautiously and Draco didn’t reply. She sighed and looked over at the time. “The Aurors are coming back today,” she told him, changing the subject. 

“Mmm. Brilliant.”

“I’m sure they will be extra irritating today after what happened.” 

“Most definitely.” 

“Which means,” she said carefully, trying to approach the situation gently. “We should be on extra convincing behavior so they don’t suspect us of having any participation in what happened.”

“If you are expecting me to offer Granger tea and biscuits while asking about her family and the weather you can fuck off,” he said, his voice cool.

“Not necessarily that far, but just try to cooperate. It’s better if we just act as upset with what’s going on as they are. Well, maybe not quite as upset, but still upset.” 

Draco stood from the bed, not replying to her before undressing himself and going into the bathroom to shower. Astoria blushed and looked away from his nude body before laying back against the pillows when she heard him start the shower, not wanting to get out of bed to get ready for a day of interrogation. 

By the time Theodore made it home, it was already the dark hours of the morning. Despite the time, his mother was in the sitting room as she often was with two different bottles of alcohol he didn’t bother to identify. He walked to her quietly, disappointed at the sight of her he had come to know, sitting beside her. “Mum, it’s late isn’t it?” 

Sylvia Nott looked at her son tiredly with deep, bloodshot eyes. “Yes, I suppose it is. Why are you just getting home then?” She asked him, taking his hand and kissing it, her motions slightly sloppy.

He had grown used to his mother in this state. Her dark brown hair disheveled in result of her constantly grabbing onto it as she slumped over whatever surface held her drink, her light brown eyes surrounded by reddened whites. No matter how used to it he had become, seeing his beautiful mother in this pitiful state pained him to his core. It had only become worse and more frequent with time, and he feared the rising pattern would continue until it couldn’t rise any longer.

“I was at Malfoy’s with Blaise. We were going to come here to discuss things with father, but there was an incident with his wife, and then her mother came and things were distracted,” he told her, returning the kiss to her hand that she had taken his with.

“His wife? The Greengrass girl?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at him. 

He shouldn’t have mentioned her, especially with his mother drunk.

“Yes, that is who he married, mum,” he told her levelly. She knew the answer already, and the fact she was making him confirm it irritated him. 

“Hmm, yes. I thought we didn’t want that to happen?” She asked, scowling and pursing her lips.

“You didn’t want it to happen for different reasons than I,” he sighed, watching her pour herself another drink. 

“Again, I thought we didn’t want that to happen?” 

“I did what I could.” 

“Why don’t I believe you? You’re a charming boy, Theo. More charming than Malfoy. All that time at Hogwarts, and you’re telling me you did everything you could?”

“She wasn’t after his charms,” he told her, thinking of how Astoria never did seem fond of Malfoy at all. 

She _did_ , however, seem quite fond of _him._

He felt a feeling of possessiveness fall over him and bitterness quickly followed. She would never be his.

“Maybe not, but you could have made her forget what she was after.” 

“I did what I could,” he repeated, shifting in his seat. His mother went on about her plotting especially in the later hours when she had been drinking throughout the day.

His mother shook her head, her hair falling into her face. “For Merlin’s sake, Theodore. You wanted her for yourself? Her family is the reason she doesn’t even look at you,” she snapped. 

“That isn’t true, mother. She made efforts with you and father so obviously she looked at us,” he replied, rolling his eyes. It was _Sylvia’s_ fault he never would have attached his name to Astoria’s, not the Nott name itself. “You act as if our name is at the bottom of the pile. We are close to the Malfoys.” 

“Well we’ve worked our way back up in recent years,” she growled. “And they can consider us an _option_ all they’d like. I’d rather die than marry you to an offspring of that woman and her husband. You say her mother was there? How terrible for you. I do hope you didn’t speak to her.” 

“I did.” 

Sylvia gave her son a dull look and pushed the hair out of her face, looking impatient with it as it kept falling. “Was she as pleasant as she always has been?”

“She insulted you.” 

His mother laughed loudly, shaking her head. “Of course she did. She is a petty cunt,” she chuckled coldly. 

“Astoria defended you,” he told her, tilting his head slightly in an attempt to get her attention on his eyes as he tried to make his point.

“Oh did she? She seems like a sweet girl,” Sylvia nodded, looking slightly lifted at the thought of being defended. 

“Exactly.” 

Which was why he wouldn’t destroy her. He couldn’t manipulate her into trusting him only to hurt her, to be the cause of pain in her innocent clear blue eyes. He had gotten a taste of that already, and he couldn’t handle the guilt. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter how much Malfoy didn’t deserve her.

No matter how _good_ it had felt to have her affections.

Sylvia huffed. “Oh Theo, it’s not a personal attack towards _her._ You are well aware of that. Sometimes you are far too sensitive. However, sometimes children have to pay for their parents transgressions. Besides, you could have _had_ her. She could have been yours, but now she belongs to Draco, and you know he doesn’t treat her well. You would have at least treated her well.”

“As you just said, you would rather die than marry me to her,” he said stiffly, feeling a pang of desire at her words as well as anger for Malfoy for not caring for the well being of his wife, his wife that only wanted to please him.

“Yes, well. You could have enjoyed her until you had to marry at least,” she quipped, shrugging slightly.

_Ruined_ her, his mother meant. He could have used her and tossed her aside to leave her humiliated along with her family who she practically killed herself to please. Her whole life had been about being a proper daughter, and if he took that away she would be nothing. He had tried, he had tried to enjoy her like his mother had said.

He _did_ enjoy her.

And that was why he had to end it. 

“I certainly can’t do anything about it now. Malfoy has a tight hold on her, and after what happened earlier I’m sure she won’t even be able to leave the Manor. She barely looks at me anyway. She’s afraid of making him angry. He’s jealous of me,” he said, smirking slightly. He _was_ envious of him, which Theodore could only barely revel in seeing as he was sure it was no where near the jealousy he felt.

“Theodore. Imagine how it would look if Mrs. Malfoy _cheated_ on her new husband,” his mother said, her eyes glittering. “I mean _honestly,_ Theo. Perhaps once she's thrown out you can keep her here as a pet, just as your father has his pets. It would be a charitable act, really. She would be safe here and you’re kinder than any lowly, older pure-blood in need of a young wife.”

His stomach churned at the thought of degrading Astoria in such a way, to treat her as his whore, a plaything while he had a wife separate from her that he presented in public and had children with.

She was Malfoy’s whore.   
That’s how he had spoken of her, anyway. Gloating about their sex life and suggesting disgusting acts towards her in front of them only to make Theodore jealous as if Astoria was a _toy_. The disrespect towards Astoria disgusted him. Was that not why they had sex with random women openly but married completely different women than those of which they played with? Because their wives were meant to be above being spoken of in such a way? 

“Leave the family alone, Sylvia,” Joseph Nott said flatly, entering the room. His father was dressed as if he was going out, which Theodore was sure he was. He often left late in the night. 

His parents relationship had never been anything near loving, but it had worsened once his father had returned from Azkaban. 

“Theo,” his mother said thoughtfully, ignoring his father. “Do you know how I got this scar?” She asked, motioning to the faint mark under her arm and he heard his father snort.

He shook his head, watching her carefully. “Krat did this at school while your father laughed. She was always _attacking_ me,” she told him dramatically, nodding before motioning to another mark. “And _this_ is from your father.” 

Theodore waited for the explanation, slightly confused. His father barely went near Sylvia, and he most definitely never abused her. 

“It’s quite pathetic to attempt to use magic on someone when their back is turned, isn’t it, Sylvia?” Joseph asked, his voice mocking.

“You see? He did this to me at school, _protecting_ precious Krat, and still he protects her now. The reason is beyond me.” 

“I’m protecting _myself_ and my _name_. I did not work to regain my place of status for as long as I did for you to destroy it over your petty _revenge_. Revenge always comes with _more_ revenge and if you jeopardize the reputation of my name and the future of our son as heir by setting the Greengrass family on us I will throw you out onto the streets and you’ll have to whore yourself in order to pay for your alcohol so you can continue to be the drunk mess you are,” he hissed, stepping towards her a couple steps as he spoke, his form tall and intimidating.

Theodore winced slightly at his words, the image of his mother in such a situation paining him. 

“You are privileged,” his father continued when Sylvia had looked at him defiantly. “I let you do whatever the hell you want. I let you ruin yourself with your disgusting habit, I let you have your space. I don’t put my hands on you, though, perhaps that’s what you need. Maybe if you were married to Lucius Malfoy he would drink enough for the both of you while beating the problem out of you, but I don’t do that, do I? Yet you still won’t get over your bitterness. Get over it, Sylvia. Move on.”

“Move on,” Sylvia scoffed loudly. “You’re telling _me_ to move on? What a _joke. You_ are a joke! You can’t even _look_ in the same direction as the woman. Yet _I_ have to sit there and talk with them even more and put on a smiling face because _you_ can’t be bothered to do it yourself because it’s _you_ that _can’t move on_.” 

“Because that’s your job,” he snarled. “That’s all you fucking have to do. Smile and then come home to this big mansion where you can waste yourself away drinking and bitching about all you love to bitch about.” His father walked over to them, sliding one of the bottles closer to her. “Drink yourself to death if you wish, darling. I’m not stopping you,” he said, smiling coldly at her while meeting her eyes before leaving the room and the house. 

His mother trembled slightly beside him after the door slammed and Theodore watched her eyes as they filled with tears. “Mum,” he said gently, concerned. She wasn’t often too bothered by the arguments her and her father had, but occasionally they got to her.

She waved a hand, wiping her eyes before any tears fell. “I don’t care if it’s _petty_ , Theo. We are _all_ petty. I want them humiliated as they’ve humiliated others. How is it that their heir can turn out a blood traitor and it doesn’t impact anything? Not a peep from anyone? It was if nothing happened!” She laughed incredulously. “It didn’t even show on their faces. They just looked as if everything was normal and not as if they had just lost a son. Well, besides your little girlfriend. Wasn’t quite as lively after that, was she? She couldn’t have been _too_ sad about it seeing as she was the one who told her father of what she had seen.” A slight smile crossed Sylvia’s face. “I made her see him, you know. Her brother with that mudblood girl. I had to. No one would believe _me_ , would they? I may put on a convincing friendly face, but everyone knows of the history between our families.”

A chill ran through him as she spoke, admitting to him that she had caused the family to find out about their son. He thought of Astoria after her brother had been disowned, the memory filling his head. 

The Greengrass family entered the garden party, Freya Greengrass smiling and kissing a few different women she saw, laughing freely beside her husband as if nothing was amiss. The sisters stood by their parents’ side as Aldrich Greengrass put his arm around his wife, the brother that had usually accompanied them vacant. Nine year old Theodore looked at little Astoria, who appeared much more groomed and put together than she usually did, though there were little rings under her distressed eyes and her face appeared hollow. Theodore frowned, watching his friend. He was alarmed at the state she was in, the free spirit about her gone. His mother behind him leaned close to his father, scowling slightly with concern. “Joseph, I’m not entirely sure that child is breathing,” she murmured, watching Astoria who shook every so slightly every few seconds. 

“Mmm. The kid looks like a cruciatus victim,” he said, examining the young girl, his mouth setting into a line.

Theodore turned to look at Joseph, alarmed at his statement, his young eyes widening in fear for his friend. “She obviously isn’t, Theo, relax. We don’t torture children,” he muttered to him dismissively. “Go say hello to her if that’s what you want. Don’t mention the boy.”

“Yes, we mustn’t mention the _boy_ ,” Sylvia said bitterly, shaking her head.

Theodore went to Astoria slowly, approaching her with caution as it appeared she would be easily spooked. “Hello, Astoria. Are you okay?” He asked, frowning at how bloodshot her eyes was, similar to how his mother’s sometimes were..

She blinked up at him, seeming to not recognize him at first. “Oh hi, Theodore,” she said softly, her mouth turning up into a polite smile, but the smile didn’t touch her eyes. “I’m okay. How are you?”

He shifted at his full name, uncomfortable at the odd formality the seven year old was presenting towards him. “I’m good. You look tired,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully.

“I’m not,” she replied simply before walking towards the adults. Theodore didn’t reply and followed next to her, watching her careful steps and how straight she stood. She brushed against his father as she passed him and jumped practically a mile into the air before apologizing profusely, cringing away from him and her voice grew thick as her eyes filled with tears, tears that seemed to alarm her more as she fought to keep from crying. 

“It’s quite alright, child. Relax,” Joseph said, looking the child up and down with bewilderment and Theodore touched her arm gently with worry.

“Astoria,” Aldrich called calmly from nearby, meeting Joseph’s eyes with a neutral look before watching his daughter. “Come back over here. Please.”

Astoria went quickly to her father who he kneeled down next to her before holding her face in his hands, looking into her eyes intently as he spoke to her words that Theodore couldn’t make out from where he was standing. Aldrich stood and resumed the conversation he was having with a couple in front of him and his wife, his daughter seemingly more relaxed, her expression distant.

Theodore’s eyes refocused on his mother sitting next to him, clearing the memory from his thoughts. 

_“She couldn’t have been too sad about it.”_

He said nothing as his mother poured herself a drink, not knowing how to respond to what she had told him. Astoria had exposed her older brother to her parents? She had been so attached to him as a child from what Theodore could remember. Perhaps her loyalty to her father was just too great.

Sylvia fiddled with her braid that was only barely still intact, attempting to fix it, her eyes looking unfocused. Theodore stopped her hands gently, moving himself closer to take her hair down to redo the braid for her. “I think you should be done for the night,” he said quietly. 

“You didn’t comment to your father how late it was,” she said softly, referring to his words to her when he first came in.

Theodore didn’t reply, tying her braid. 

“Isn’t it interesting the roles we have. Your father sleeps with countless women. Men can cheat on their wives any time they’d like, and here if little Astoria Malfoy sleeps with you it will practically be suicide,” she said, standing up as he helped her before looking at his eyes. “You _will_ get her to sleep with you, won’t you?”

“I will do what I can.”


	17. Chapter 17

 

Astoria moved to take the shower once Draco left the bathroom. As she moved towards the bathroom his eyes scanned her body, looking slightly amused. “You could have joined me and saved water as well as time,” he told her, going into his dresser lazily.

“Is that what you and Pansy did to save time in the mornings? Or any of the other _several_ random women that I can’t even begin to recall that you had _relations_ with?” Astoria asked, tilting her chin up slightly as she stopped in front of the bathroom door before going in to finish speaking with him, the steam from his shower leaking over her and covering her with the scents of his bathing products that she had grown familiar with from the smells lingering on his skin and hair as well as his pillows she slept on at night.

“Careful, love. You sound a bit jealous,” he drawled, moving his eyes to meet hers. 

“Jealous? Of Pansy Parkinson?” She asked, scoffing and wrinkling her nose. “Please, don’t insult me.” 

Pansy wasn’t an ugly girl by any means, but she was horrible for many other reasons. In _no way_ did she compare to Astoria. No, Astoria had poised herself too well and worked too hard to even be in the same _realm_ as horrendously mannered and shameless Pansy Parkinson. She wouldn’t tolerate it.

“No,” he told her, his voice simple. 

“No?” 

“No, that isn’t what we did. I would rather Parkinson or any other female _not_ ruin one of the only things that clear my head,” he told her. “They would be far too distracting. All over me and such, suffocating me. There’s a time and a place for that. My personal time is not one of them.”

Yes, he always _did_ spend a very long time in the shower, and his water always seemed uncomfortably hot from what she had observed. Astoria pressed her tongue to her canine tooth and tilted her head, a smug expression crossing her features. Draco raised a slow eyebrow at her, blinking slowly. “Yes?”   
“I suppose you’d be fine with _me_ ruining it then,” she told him, slightly surprised at herself displaying her cockiness in a scenario that she was certainly _not_ confident in, so she wasn’t quite sure where that came from. 

Draco watched her carefully, assessing her form before moving towards her and tugging her by her arm against his body that was covered only by a towel around his waist. “You’re my wife. It is different,” he told her, trailing a hand down her neck slowly. “Don’t compare yourself to petty whores.”

“How is that?” She asked him, her cockiness fading as the intensity of his nearness coated her senses, making her feel incredibly small again.

“You don’t invade my space. You don’t push me or throw yourself at me. You allow me to take my time, as you take your time,” her murmured. 

Ah, but _he_ invaded _her_ space.

“I don’t have to throw myself at you. You’re already my husband,” she said dismissively. “There is no need to _seduce_ you.”

Draco smirked, catching a piece of her hair in his fingers. “That I am. You got what you were after already didn’t you?”

“I thought so.” 

“You thought so,” he repeated, his tone thoughtful. “Hmm. And you believe you could seduce me if you needed to?” 

Astoria didn’t respond to his question as he began to touch her, holding still for him as they fell into quietness, as she usually did, searching for a sound in the silence to latch onto. She studied the veins that spread over his upper body, pronounced against his pale skin, much similar to hers. His chest was hairless and smooth aside from the light blonde trail down the lower part of his stomach that disappeared past his towel, which she liked. She didn’t think being very hairy would suit him much at all. He didn’t have an abundance of muscle, but he had shaped up quite a bit since Hogwarts. He was toned, his body was firm and strong which only made him appear all the more marble like. 

“Always so still,” he commented, running a finger across her cheekbone and she shivered slightly in response.

“Does it bother you?” She asked, her voice slightly breathless as she had been holding her breath, something she especially did when it was very quiet.

“No,” he replied, not adding anything else to his answer. 

Astoria was patient as he touched her more, his touch incredibly light and careful, as if he was memorizing the exact feel of her skin under his fingertips. Counting every freckle perhaps with how slow he was. His fingers brushed over her lips lightly and she kissed them gently, her eyes finding his. He paused, watching her with his level gaze before pushing his fingers against her mouth until her lips parted for them as they slid into her mouth. She felt herself flush slightly but kept her eyes on his, knowing that was what he preferred and she closed her mouth over his cool fingers. His eyes darkened as she pressed her tongue up against them, and when she sucked them gently she watched his jaw tighten. 

She didn’t separate his eyes from his as he moved his other hand behind her neck to hold her in place as he pushed his slender fingers further into her mouth and down her throat until the muscles in her throat contracted slightly around them in protest. Astoria controlled the gagging sound so it was only faint and she felt her eyes water slightly as she watched him. He didn’t move to remove them as his eyes filled with something ravenous. When he finally moved his fingers from her mouth she pressed her tongue against them as they exited, studying the feel of his skin on her tongue. 

He kissed her hard, almost painfully hard, causing her to gasp in response. His hand on the back of her neck pushed her closer to him and she struggled to regain herself enough to respond to his demanding kiss. She tried to kiss back harder, to at least attempt to match his aggression in the kiss, but she was weak and inexperienced as his mouth completely dominated hers. She was powerless against him, but she supposed she didn’t mind.

She hesitated before sliding her hand up his chest halfway, feeling his smooth skin and defined form that she had previously been staring at. He shifted forward, pressing his body against her touch and broke the kiss, looking down at her with amusement in his eyes. She scowled at his expression and dropped her hand, only to have him catch it and hold it to his lips, kissing her palm. Oddly enough, this is what made her sway slightly on her feet.

She was _swooning_ over him. 

How very childish of her, and she hadn’t even covered it up well. He chuckled at her reaction and stepped away, motioning to the bathroom, signaling her to get on with it before resuming dressing himself. She fought the urge to huff like a little girl at his smug face before going into the bathroom to wash herself. As the water covered her she closed her eyes, desire for him still stirring in her stomach and she shifted her thighs together, biting the inside of her cheek. She was unfamiliar with these feelings of longing and the heat between her legs calling to her to go back to him, to act bold. 

She was _turned on_ by him.

When she returned to the bedroom, Draco had gone. It was typical of him to not wait around for her, she had gotten used to it. It was better he was gone, she needed to collect herself before meeting with people not be put into a reddened, needy mess by him. She carefully got ready, applying all of the oils and creams she enjoyed and took time on herself. She had much more opportunity to get ready properly this time around to prepare for the Aurors than she had previously, which she appreciated greatly. She needed the time to pull herself together and feel her best if she was going to put on a good show. 

When she finally got downstairs, the Aurors were there, early. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the irritating fact and spread a false smile across her face as she took in who was in attendance. Granger was there again, Ronald Weasley, and the dark skinned man was there again. The two older men that had spoken of recollections of her mother previously were not there, thankfully. She had not been fond of them. Draco was not in the room, she found, and she assumed the house-elf allowed them in. 

“Mrs. Malfoy, it’s good to see you again,” Granger said in attempt to match Astoria’s decencies, offering her half of a tight smile. 

“Hermione, I am very sorry no one was here to greet you,” Astoria said frowning before moving to kiss Granger’s cheeks and Granger awkwardly tried to accept them, looking surprised that Astoria was willing to touch her. “Ronald Weasley, of course,” she greeted him warmly, nodding to him. He looked very uncomfortable and displeased to be there, glancing around the Manor suspiciously as his lip slightly curled.

Draco would be ever so pleased to see him.

“Er, right. You’re Malfoy’s wife,” he said, wrinkling his face slightly in a sort of grimace. A charming man, indeed.

“Astoria,” she said and nodded to him enthusiastically before turning to the deeply skinned man, who was quite attractive and seemingly better mannered than the rest, his posture straight and reserved. “I apologize, I didn’t catch your name the last time you were here,” she told him, frowning apologetically. 

“Aiken Dine,” he told her, nodding to her. Yes, she recognized the name. A decent family with only a few hiccups in the line.

“I brought Ron,” Hermione stated, motioning to him. 

“I can see that, Hermione,” Astoria said, blinking. 

“Well, I was thinking of what you said and,” Granger paused, looking at Weasley with disapproval. “And you were right. So I brought him along to hopefully.. Eliminate some stereotypes.” 

Astoria fought a smirk at her words. She wondered what excellent and degrading line Weasley must have said to naive Granger who must have expected better from her precious hero. She was sure this “eliminate stereotypes” proposal was meant for how she viewed them as well. She was _trying_ , trying to work with Astoria in order to build some sort of bridge to get her on _their_ side, to make her one of _them_. 

Very poor and obvious manipulation on her part.

“Wonderful,” Astoria replied smoothly, smiling before becoming distracted by the next man who entered the sitting room. “Harry Potter. What an honor,” she said, bowing her head slightly in respect, forcing back a grimace. A bit too much.

Potter took her in, his neutral expression faltering at her greeting. “Mrs. Malfoy, I take it?” He asked, nodding as he moved to join the other Aurors. 

Well, there they were, weren’t they? The whole _Golden Trio_ there, in Draco’s home, her home. “Astoria,” she told him before clasping her hands together. “Well! Let me gather you all something to drink. Perhaps a snack?” 

“No offense, but I’d rather not be poisoned,” Weasley grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Ugh, how could one possibly understand him speaking in barely formed words that way? Infuriating.

Hermione gave him an angry look to her friend, obviously _alienating_ Astoria was not a part of her manipulation tactic. Potter side-eyed him. “Sure, that would be great, Astoria. Thanks. Where’s Draco?” He asked her, glancing around. 

“Ah, he was just with me in his bedroom. He might be in his study, actually. Would you like me to go and look?” She asked, bracing herself to stand.

“No, no. That’s fine. We’ll wait.”

“Story of my life, that is. Waiting for Draco,” she said, laughing slightly as she told the house-elf to fetch some table snacks while she made them coffee. She stopped just as she was about to pour them at Draco’s commanding voice. 

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare pour Potter and his sidekicks _refreshments_ ,” he snapped coolly. “Absolutely _not._ ” 

Astoria pressed her lips together, considering her options, picking her battles. She gave the three apologetic looks before giving only the fourth Auror a drink, who took it with amusement. 

“No matter, Draco. Mr. Weasley was concerned I’d poison him,” she said, sitting on the couch across from the Aurors as Draco made his way over to them, looking disgusted at the three who were on his furniture. . 

“Yes, well, of course Weasley can’t make it five minutes before insulting my wife,” he slightly spat, sitting beside her. 

“I wasn’t _insulting_ her, you git. Am I honestly supposed to trust your little.. Female version of you to make me something to drink?” Weasley retorted, looking at Draco with impatience.

Astoria scowled at that. Female version of Draco? They were nothing alike _at all_. “Excuse me, Mr. Weasley, but when you say “female version of you” what exactly about Draco do you mean? Early years at Hogwarts Draco? Post Hogwarts Draco? His appearance? I’m quite lost. Our personalities differ greatly, and our looks do as well, just because we are _blonde_ does not mean we are copies of each other,” she said, her tone slightly offended. Draco had especially been quite the fool at Hogwarts, and she resented the thought that anyone could assume her acting similarly to _that_.

Draco watched her, raising an eyebrow at her response. “You don’t desire being compared to me, my lovely wife?” 

Potter sighed, shaking his head. “Ignore, Ron. We’re here for something important are we not? Yes, we are. Right, well, we should get on with it then,” he said, flipping through his documents. “We should try to ignore our differences to get through this smoothly.”

“Of course, Harry,” Astoria said, nodding. Draco looked at her sharply, obviously not pleased with the use of Potter’s first name on her tongue or her slightly sugary tone.

“Would you like me to leave you two to a room? You and Weasley as well? I won’t tolerate it, Astoria, and if you’re trying to infuriate me then I can assure you it is working,” he said, though his voice was even. 

Astoria frowned, shaking her head. “Not at all, Draco.” Why on _Earth_ would she want to anger him? Was he sincerely asking her such a thing?

“There is _no_ reason to speak to her that way for being polite, Malfoy,” Granger said sharply, a look of disgust on her face towards her husband. “I’m not fond of sitting here and watching you talk down to your wife.” 

“Oh, excuse me. I thought this was _my_ wife who is meant to listen to me, but perhaps I’m mistaken and she’s _yours._ ”

“She’s your _wife_ , she’s not meant to be obedient to your every will.”   
“Ah. Perhaps in _your_ world, Granger. Things work differently in many ways in _our_ world, and you are a _guest_. You might consider acting as such as well as minding your own business.” 

“ _Your world_ is just a mess of excuses to be horrible and practically enslave women!” Granger explained, puffing up. 

“ _Enslave_ ,” Draco scoffed. “Of course you’d only see the effects on women.” Draco looked at her with disinterest as her face reddened in anger before turning his face away dismissively.. 

“Mr. Potter,” Astoria said, ignoring the argument going on about her. “What questions did you have for us?” 

He shook his head, gathering his papers together. “I don’t know at this point. All the questions were ran through last time. Did you do it?” He asked her lamely.

“If you are referring to the recent killings, no, I didn’t,” she said, turning to Draco. “Did you?”

“I have better things to do.” 

She turned back to Potter and smiled. “There you are.” 

“We were planning on just.. Talking and observing you for a while. There are only so many questions you can ask, really,” Granger said, looking at Harry and then back at them. 

“ _Observe_ us,” Draco repeated, sneering it. “Like we are fucking _animals_.” 

“Aren’t you?” Weasley retorted, narrowing his eyes. 

Astoria placed a hand on her chest, feigning offense. “I do hope I don’t _look_ like an animal. I fear my mother would be quite hard on me if that were the case, and she can be quite harsh when it comes to appearances..” 

“Far from it, Mrs. Malfoy,” Potter offered, smiling to her. 

Draco laughed coldly in response, moving his arm around her waist and yanking her to his side so they were touching on the couch. “How about your eyes stay on what’s yours and my eyes, no doubt, will stay on what’s mine, Potter.” 

Astoria wanted to sigh out loud but she held it in. The compliment was strictly polite, but she was sure Potter could tell her she simply looked female and Draco would find an excuse to be angry and possessive about it.

“Well, Malfoy. Astoria was just telling me it was an honor to see me so I thought I should repay the compliment,” Potter said, his face innocent and indifferent. 

“Harry,” Hermione said frowning, looking at Astoria worriedly. “You shouldn’t say that right-“

“Careful, Potter. You might earn my poor wife a _flogging_ ,” he said coldly, mocking Granger’s concerns. 

“Oi!” Astoria looked over to see Adrian Pucey stalking into the room, an accusing look on his face. “What the fuck? Thought we were friends? Thought I made it clear that’s all I wanted to be and not siblings?” 

“The hell? Can’t you see we are in the middle of something?” Weasley said, looking at Adrian up and down in annoyance. Astoria caught Granger looking as well, her face showing an appreciation for Adrian’s appearance and Astoria wanted to laugh.

Adrian stared at him before making a show of looking around and moving in a circle slowly where he stood. “No. Don’t see anything you’re in the middle of, so sorry. Now, be a good boy and let me fight with my friend here.” 

“I never agreed to be friends, Adrian,” she told him calmly, raising her nose slightly. 

“Oh, ho ho. I see. I see what this is. I offer you kindness, and you _betray_ me,” Adrian said dramatically, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Draco, is what is this?” 

“Unbelievable,” Draco drawled, looking bored. 

“It’s unbelievable is what it is!” Adrian exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “You women. A man can’t at least let his dick age a while before you come and try to suck it dry.” 

Astoria’s face filled with disgust. “I can assure you, neither Daphne or I have the intention to do anything of the sort,” she said, grimacing at the imagery. 

“Honestly, Harry, what the fuck,” Weasley said impatiently, making a show of adjusting in his seat uncomfortably. 

“I thought you were meant to _examine_ us,” Draco said coolly, eyeing Weasley. “So shut up and do just that.”

Weasley opened his mouth to protest but Granger gave him a look. It was always odd to Astoria to see the gender roles she was used to reversed. 

“Well, you could at least explain to us what’s going on,” Granger said slowly, looking at Astoria and Adrian. 

“Perfect. I’ll tell my side of the story first, the victim’s side, so this girl here. This girl _used_ my friendship, my _trust_ to bag her sister a husband. Me. Now my parents are trying to shove this girl on my dick, and I just haven’t been into English girls lately. I’ve been quite pleased exploring the different birds the world has to offer at the moment, and _she_ is going to put a stop to all of that by attaching some _leech_ to me,” Adrian said, dropping himself into an armchair. 

Leech. Must they all describe them at way? Honestly, as if they had any choice in the matter, _and_ they were raised to do exactly what their husbands said. Besides, _men_ were allowed to sleep with as many other women as they’d like without being scorned. There was quite little negative impact for men when it came to having a wife. Astoria was never sure why they resisted, as they were rarely faithful or considerate anyway.

“So.. An arranged marriage. To Astoria’s sister.. And it’s her fault?” Hermione said slowly, attempting to look engaged in the conversation. 

Astoria rolled her eyes, shaking her head at Adrian’s explanation. “Oh, would you look at that, rolling her eyes. The _disrespect_. Honestly, I’ve never felt more insulted. I give you all of my loyalty, and you spit on it,” Adrian said, his voice mournful during his dramatics. 

“He told me that his mother had been asking about Daphne, so I simply passed along the information to my mother, which I made no promises not to do,” Astoria commented simply. 

“She passed on the information knowing it was a death sentence to my youth.”

The fourth Auror chuckled and wrote a couple of things down while the other three looked unsure of how to respond. 

“Is she ugly?” Weasley asked, looking between both Astoria and Adrian. 

“My sister is not _ugly_ ,” Astoria scoffed. “And Adrian should feel _lucky_ to have her, to have a Greengrass.”

“Greengrass,” Adrian said slowly. “So the color of grass. Green. Green grass. A good and beautiful last name, really.” 

Draco snorted loudly. “I wouldn’t be criticizing surnames in your position, Pucey.” 

Weasley actually _snickered_ at that and quickly covered it up with a cough, not wanting to be caught laughing at something Draco said. Potter exchanged glances with Granger before looking down at his notes, seemingly unsure of what to be reporting on.

“Mine’s beautiful Malfoy. It sounds very close to the greatest joy in life, so I’m not completely sure what you mean.” 

“I don’t understand, really. You don’t _have_ to marry her,” Potter said slowly to Adrian, looking confused. 

“No, he does, Harry. That’s what they do,” Weasley said, nodding. “They marry who their parents tell them to, and if they refuse they risk being disowned.. Or whatever dark shit these people do.”

“I’ll be leaving again anyway, don’t worry about me, Potter. Marriage will be avoided for now,” Adrian said dismissively. 

Astoria frowned and looked at Potter, tilting her head. No no, that wouldn’t do. If Daphne were to marry Adrian then she would surely be able to see her much more. “Don’t you think, seeing as the Ableworths were never involved with Voldemort, that it might be necessary to _also_ keep an eye on other pure-blood families that you may not suspect?” She asked him, her eyes shifting to Adrian as she spoke. 

Adrian’s eyes narrowed and he sat up straight. “Are you fucking _joking_? I don’t give a shit about Death Eater bullshit! I have more interesting things to do with my life, thanks,” he spat, adjusting his jacket irritably. “Flaw my perfect skin with that hideous mark? I’ll have to decline.” 

Potter watched him for a moment before looking to the fourth Auror and nodding. “Mr. Pucey, we will have to request you to not leave very far from your family’s residency for the time being. If you violate this simple instruction we will have to track you and arrest you. Apologies, but these are critical times.”

Adrian froze, staring at him before protesting loudly. Astoria’s attention left them as they argued, noticing the heat of Draco’s body next to her. She felt comfortable there, comfortable next to him. She only wished he wanted her close to him for reasons aside from Potter, reasons aside from jealousy.

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

The Aurors were still there when Blaise and Theodore arrived, much to Astoria’s annoyance. She was not fond of the attentions from them, studying them like they were so bizarre and _wrong._ They didn’t understand that _they_ were the ones destroying the traditions and roots of magic, they refused to accept the fact that they were the true outsiders. Astoria shifted next to Draco who she was quite close to since he had pulled her next to him in response to Potter’s innocent assurance about her appearance. She wished it acceptable for her to lay her head down in his lap, or at the very least lean against him. She hadn’t slept well the previous night, and the Aurors were exhausting her. She was comfortable with fake smiles and overplayed politeness, but she was not used so many questions and so much focus on _her_. Odd questions as well, challenging ones to her way of life, _their_ way of life. At least the extra people were giving the Aurors more people award their attentions to, but she almost preferred being spoken to alone. This setup made her feel more like a freak show as they watched them interact with each other as they jotted down their notes, listening to their conversations and observing their behaviors like animals. Draco noticed her movement and moved his arm to rest on the couch behind her, offering her the smallest amount of consolation. She knew he had to be even more aggravated than her. He had personally been humiliated by these specific people multiple times and now he had to allow them into his home to openly allow them to _judge_ him and his life along with the people in it.

Astoria’s attention was summoned back to the conversations in the room when she heard Weasley mumbling to Potter about how she seemed too young for Draco. Weasley was probably her least favorite, which was odd seeing how he was the pure-blood of the three. A complete disgrace he was, terribly impolite and clumsy. 

“I’m seventeen, Mr. Weasley,” she told him before lifting her lips into a half smile, her voice more stiff than she had intended.

“She’s thirteen actually,” Blaise cut in, nodding. “You should know our people are into child brides, Weasley. I’m a bit unnerved by it as well.” 

“Oh yes, it was your birthday yesterday,” Granger observed, looking at her file, her eyebrows lifting from their scowl of confusion when Astoria stated her age that differed from the last time they had spoken. “Well.. Happy birthday.” 

“Thank you,” Astoria replied and smiled to her, nodding her head once in thanks. Granger was more attractive than she had noticed before, a shame she was stuck with options of men like Weasley, especially since she was quite intelligent. 

“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday,” Draco said, studying her carefully. 

Astoria shrugged slightly. “You were gone all day.” She wasn’t upset that Draco hadn’t acknowledged her birthday, but she was disappointed that she had to be alone all day. She didn’t like being alone any day though, her birthday didn’t change that. She wished Draco would allow her to come along when he visited Narcissa, but he didn’t seem to ever plan on allowing it from how he acted towards the subject.

“Well that’s depressing,” Weasley muttered, looking at Potter and shaking his head. “I knew he was a git but bloody hell.” 

Astoria wanted to recoil in disgust at Weasley’s comment of pity and Potter looked like he wanted to make a comment to Draco but he said nothing, focusing on his paperwork. He was seemingly trying to be professional much to her relief. His friend ought to have taken notes. She caught Theodore’s eye for a moment, catching the irritable expression before looking to Pucey as he spoke. “Good one, Malfoy. Such a perfect couple, really. One can only dream to have a marriage as fairytale like as yours,” Adrian drawled, pushing another biscuit into his mouth. 

Ah, Pucey had horrible manners as well. The Puceys were more interested in flashiness than class and poise. The events they threw were much different than the ones the Malfoys or families similar had, as their events were filled with loud, fast music for people to jump and dance to in their intoxicated states while throwing themselves all over each other. Astoria had rarely attended anything at their home, as it wasn’t suited for children, but she knew how they were actually found to be _fun_ and were the preferred type of event to most as opposed to the stiff and proper ones she was used to. There were a few pure-blood families close to her own who chose to portray themselves in that manner, but she did enjoy the dancing of those events, though the chaos had always made her uncomfortable. 

The pure-bloods were slightly separate in that way, and she knew the Malfoys looked down on such families as they usually had many half-bloods in attendance and little proper etiquette, as well as the fact that their wardrobes and decor wouldn’t always seem strictly wizard influenced. Families didn’t often switch off with one another, but she knew Theodore’s mother had come from a family similar to Adrian’s, which is most likely where she had gotten her drinking problem from. Her mother had always spoken ill of the women in those families, stating they didn’t know anything of _real_ proper upbringing, and now her sister was going to be married into one. 

Astoria could feel Draco’s gaze on her as he ignored the comments mocking the quality of his treatment of her but she didn’t look look up at him, feeling slightly upset for a reason she couldn’t place. She could feel the _pity_ coming from Granger again and it made her furious, as if Astoria would trade her life for _Granger’s_ , stuck around someone like _Weasley_ with only a modest amount of money and a man’s job. Why on earth should Granger pity _her_ from her place? She wished Draco wouldn’t have pointed out that he hadn’t realized it had been her birthday, and she was grateful when her angry sister came into the Manor looking furious and drawing the attentions of the people in the room. 

“Congratulations, bitch. You’ve officially ruined my life,” she spit out angrily, dropping a letter in Astoria’s lap, ignoring the Aurors. 

Weasley examined the back of Daphne in appreciation and Astoria grimaced in revulsion before glancing at the letter from the Pucey family which she assumed was a confirmation letter regarding marrying Daphne to Adrian. Daphne was being _incredibly_ dramatic, as she usually was. Astoria had done her a favor by giving the idea to their mother. She looked up at her sister with big eyes and frowned. “Oh, Daphne. Everyone is coming in yelling at me.. It’s beginning to hurt my feelings,” she told her sister, her voice mournful and her lips almost in a pout. 

“Just like you hurt _my_ feelings when you betrayed our friendship,” Pucey said, his eyes running down Daphne’s figure, assessing her carefully. 

“My sister doesn’t know how to have _friends_ ,” Daphne sneered, glaring down at her. “She’s never had them.”

“That’s not true,” Astoria sniffed, lifting her head defiantly. 

Daphne snorted loudly. “It most certainly is! Name one friend then, and not just someone you sat beside in classes either.” 

Astoria thought for a moment, almost regretting her objection as she scraped her mind for an answer. “Braden Naylor.”

She saw Draco cock and eyebrow from the corner of her eye but she ignored it, watching her sister. “You were _not_ friends with _Braden Naylor_ ,” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest while looking down her nose at Astoria. 

“I was,” Astoria insisted, nodding. “Ask him if you’d like. Send him an owl. You will see.”

“He’s training in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, actually,” Granger said curiously and Blaise scoffed, muttering something under his breath. 

Potter was watching Daphne with a slight scowl on his face before leaning towards the fourth Auror, exchanging words that Astoria couldn’t make out.

Daphne looked at Granger in disgust when she had chimed in then scanned the rest of the Aurors before turning back to Astoria. “He was Tracy’s ex-boyfriend. That would be _awfully_ traitorous of you to sneak around with him.” 

Astoria wrinkled her nose at that, she couldn’t stand Davis. “Tracy Davis was _your_ half-blood friend, as if her love life interests me, and I was _not_ sneaking around with anyone. We were _friends._ ”

“I’d hate to argue with you, but I don’t know if he was just after friendship,” Theodore chuckled, displaying the first emotion other than resentment since he had arrived. Theodore was incredibly cold and stiff around the Aurors, as well as most people outside of their community. It was odd to see his charming act halt under different company. 

“Yes, he was. We were friends. He was nice. We went to Hogsmeade once.”

Granger was watching Theodore now, looking slightly intrigued. “It’s nice to see an expression other than a brooding one, Mr. Nott. You’re much more attractive without it,” she told him before a slightly uncomfortable expression crossed her features as she seemed to regret her comment.

Theodore’s lip curled in disgust and he shifted to adjust his position, scoffing at her. “Please, I do not aim to attract _your_ kind,” he spat. “I would rather you keep your ogling to yourself.”

“You did _not_ go to Hogsmeade with him! You always went to Hogsmeade with _me_ ,” Daphne snapped disbelievingly, interrupting the chilled moment between Granger and Theodore. “I would have noticed.”

“It’s quite irritating when you deny everything I am saying. Why do I bother speaking when all you do is argue? It is true. Fourth year.” 

“You were a _mess_ fourth year!” 

“I was not a _mess,_ ” Astoria said dismissively, “but maybe that’s a reason why you may not have noticed, then.” She was telling the truth. Perhaps they hadn’t been the best of friends, but they were close enough to being friends for Astoria to make the claim. He had helped her with Potions when she had struggled with it that year. She did not believe he was interested in her in a different way like Theodore was trying to claim either. He was relatively quiet and polite, but still acted closer to a typical man around his group of friends, so that was most likely where Theodore was getting the idea. 

Daphne shook her head and turned to sit, exposing the front of herself to Adrian. Adrian began to shake his head at her body. “No. You need to eat. I need more to work with,” he commented, eyeing her. “For fuck’s sake have you never heard of food?”

Daphne _was_ quite skinny, even skinnier now that she had been away from home with her parents. Her body was still attractive, but it was getting dangerously small.

“Excuse me,” Daphne replied flatly, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“I told you that you were too skinny,” Astoria chimed, sipping the tea she had poured for herself. “Men don’t like a bunch of bones showing, Daphne. You know this. You should listen to my advice more often.” 

“It shouldn’t be about what _men_ like,” Granger interjected, glaring at Adrian. “It should be about _yourself_ and _health._ ” 

“I think I’ll eat _less_ then,” Daphne said defiantly, sitting down while staring at Adrian, ignoring Granger completely.

“You know, my father told me that your mother used to eat spoonfuls of peanut butter occasionally to make her thirsty so she would fill up on water so she wouldn’t eat, so it’s not a wonder you’re a skeleton, but I’m going to need you to knock it off, darling.” Adrian ignored Granger’s glare and combed a hand through his dark hair, still examining Daphne’s body shamelessly. 

Adrian Pucey was considered one of the most attractive men near their age according to many young women as well as different gossip papers that were related to their community. She also doubted that he was very cruel, though she was sure he had the ability to be if he wanted to, and Astoria doubted that he would treat her sister very terribly. He lacked manners and was a bit of a fool, but it could have been much worse. 

“That’s horrible,” Granger said, her voice sad. 

Now she was _pitying_ her mother of all people.

“Truly, it is. Why do women think we want to rut against hard, protruding bones exactly? Who started that delusion? I’d like to have a word with them.” 

“I can’t believe you are mocking something as serious as anorexia in such a way,” Granger hissed, the men next to her staying out of the conversation. 

She was offended quite easily. Astoria couldn’t imagine her trying to attend a pure-blood event or sit in the Slytherin Common Room when a large group of men were present. Her head would probably explode off of her shoulders. 

“I’m not mocking it. I’m quite serious. This girl is going to be my wife, which means I’m going to fuck her for the rest of my life. I’d like a bit more meat on her, thanks. I don’t want bruises,” he answered Granger, smirking at Daphne whose face had reddened. “Your face is good though, love. You’ve got that going for you, and your tits are fuller than your sister’s so that’s a bonus.” 

Daphne stared at Adrian, seemingly taking in everything he was saying. She looked away, blinking quickly, her expression both shocked and disgusted as she grit her teeth in anger.

“How do you just talk about the woman you’re meant to _marry_ like that?” Hermione demanded, looking between Adrian and Daphne. “That’s going to be _your_ wife who you are _publicly_ disrespecting.” 

“Thanks, Granger, but I don’t need your defenses,” Daphne muttered, looking at Granger with unamused eyes. 

“I would appreciate it if you would keep your eyes off of my wife’s breasts, Pucey,” Draco remarked, rolling his eyes when Astoria scowled down at her chest at Adrian’s comment. 

“Aw, don’t worry, love. I always thought Draco might have a thing for boys.” Pucey’s voice was almost a coo of mocking sympathy. 

Both Blaise and Weasley snickered and Draco narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond.

“I don’t know about that, Pucey. Draco was recently going on about _whipping_ Astoria and how much she _enjoyed_ everything they did together, so I’m assuming he’s focused on women at least for the moment.” Astoria froze at Daphne’s comment, a cold feeling settling in her stomach as fury rose through her. Her breathing became uneven at her anger and she bit down on her tongue, her eyes becoming unfocused. 

How _dare_ he. 

How dare he shame her in such a way, to speak about her publicly as if she was just a toy, his _slut_. She was his _wife_ and she deserved to be treated as such, had _earned_ to be treated as such. 

Astoria shifted away from Draco slightly, not wanting to be near him, not wanting to be near _any_ of them. Not after he had spoken about her like she was his little whore in front of them. Men did not have the same standards as women when it came to behaving a certain way publicly, but they were still meant to have a certain set of _manners_. Had he _no_ respect for her _at all_? 

“Temper, temper,” Blaise tsked mockingly. 

Astoria laughed softly, her blood hot. “ _Harry_ ,” she began, her voice friendly over the shaking anger that threatened the sound of it. “You’re with Ginny Weasley, no?” 

Potter watched her cautiously, a confused look on his face. “Er.. Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, because I could have _sworn_ Blaise and her were friends. Weren’t you Blaise?” She asked, turning to Blaise, reveling in his horrified expression. 

“What,” Theodore said flatly, staring at Astoria before looking to Blaise. 

“Why would I be _friends_ with a filthy blood traitor,” Blaise snarled through his teeth, his eyes flashing wildly. 

“Well, I don’t know, Blaise.. But you were! Yes, I remember. You two would meet in the most curious of places.. Empty classrooms, behind the Quidditch pitch.. Always more secluded areas, I suppose you were private _friends_.” 

“What the fuck is she on about, Zabini,” Weasley demanded, standing up angrily and Granger grabbed onto his arm. 

“Ron, she’s angry at him. Of course Ginny wouldn’t go near _him_. You have to _calm down_. You can’t attack them!” Granger hissed, tugging on his arm. 

“Hermione,” Astoria frowned. “I thought we agreed I wouldn’t lie to you.” 

“Blaise..” Draco trailed off, the grimace so deep on his face that it seemed possible for it to leave a permanent imprint. “What did you do.” 

“She’s fucking _lying_. Control your bitch, Malfoy, before I do.” Blaise drew his wand and Draco narrowed his eyes, his face going cold as he took out his own. 

Astoria ignored Blaise, watching Potter innocently. “I understand if you don’t believe me. Here,” she told him reassuringly, pointing her wand to her head to extract a memory for him before her wand was thrown out of her hand from Blaise’s disarming spell.

Astoria smirked. She had gotten what she wanted. 

Potter’s face had gone pale and he stood stiffly, his mouth tight. “I think that will be all for today,” he forced out, not saying anything else as he stalked out of the Manor. 

Granger was watching Astoria, seemingly fighting with herself in her head on whether or not she should believe her and Weasley had already followed after Harry. 

Pucey began to snicker wildly, bending over in his chair, trying to choke out words mixed with profanities through his laughter directed at both Blaise and Astoria.

Draco was standing now, blocking Astoria from view of Blaise, furious after Blaise had disarmed her. 

“Blaise, don’t be angry at me,” Astoria said, her voice filled with false sadness. “You were upset I had forgotten you, and I _did_ promise I would never forget you again.” 

“Quiet, Astoria,” Draco snapped, his wand pointed at Blaise. “Leave.”   
Blaise’s laugh was chilling as he left the Manor, fury radiating from him and the sounds of shattering echoed through the walls. Pucey was still laughing when Draco turned to look down at her, anger and shock on his face. 

“Were you really implying that Blaise and Weasley were shagging, Astoria,” Theodore said stiffly, disgust tripping from his words. 

Daphne was staring at her excitedly, biting her lip. “You keep _everything_ from me!” She exclaimed, a glee in her voice and she giggled loudly. “Oh, this is _brilliant._ ”

“Was I implying that?” Astoria asked coyly, not looking at Draco’s eyes. 

She was beginning to regret the scene she had made. Upsetting Potter was probably not the best idea, and she was sure Potter would have it out for Blaise now. She was angry with him, yes, but he was Draco’s best friend and one of _them_ , and their side was dwindling enough. Hopefully for Blaise the trio wouldn’t be too keen on spreading the information that precious Ginny Weasley had been fooling around with Blaise Zabini of all people. 

It was more common than the _light side_ liked to believe. Their perfect, golden hearted women would sneak their way into the beds of the _dark_ men that they so scorned. Perhaps it made them feel _bad_ and the rebellious nature of it appealed to them. The Weasley girl was into Quidditch as was Blaise, and it probably thrilled her to slip through the fingers of her brothers watchful eyes and feel up one of the other side, the _enemy_. These girls found the men she had grown up around exciting, sexy, but they never experienced what it was to truly be _involved_ with one of them, involved with a dark wizard. Sex in a broom closet with one certainly did not count. 

Draco caught her arm and dragged her to his study, slamming the door behind him, leaving the rest of them in the sitting room. She assumed the rest of the Aurors had already left behind Potter and Weasley. Theodore had been staring off when Draco had dragged her away, revulsion still covering his face and her sister and Adrian were gossiping about Blaise screwing a blood traitor. 

“I don’t want you to talk about me like that.” She tried to make her voice sound strong as she spoke out before he had a chance to, but it had come out much weaker than she had liked. 

Draco stared at her, his eyes searching hers. 

“I’m not your whore. I’m your wife. Please do not speak about me in such a _humiliating_ way,” she continued, her voice growing thick with emotion. “I have very _little_ pride when it comes to you, but I am _not your whore_. Do you have _any_ respect for me at all?!”

She turned away from him, turning towards his desk and bracing her hands on the wood. She waited for his anger, knowing full well he wouldn’t care about how upset she was over this, especially when she had caused a fight between him and his best friend. She wondered what Blaise would have done to her if Draco hadn’t stepped between them. She knew Blaise wouldn’t have been above attacking her horribly, but she wasn’t sure how far he would go.

“Yes, I do have respect for you,” he said calmly, moving towards her and turning her back around, his face now close to hers.

She looked up at him, trying to read his expression. His anger seemed to have faded, but his expression was still hard. “If you must talk with your friends about _those things_ then please.. I-I’d rather you have some toys on the side then subject me to that. I don’t deserve that. I’m more than _them_.” That wasn’t true. As much as she loathed being humiliated, she knew she would feel worse if she had to share him with other women, women that would come into _her house_ to have sex with _her husband_. She fully expected him to sleep with others going into the marriage, but now that it hadn’t occurred yet she dreaded the possibility more every day he remained faithful.

“I understand.”

“You understand..? What does that mean?” She asked him quietly, feeling an odd adrenaline at the fact that she had acted less than appropriate and yet he wasn’t completely furious with her. 

Had she _won?_  
“I shouldn’t have spoken of you that way, you’re right. You _are_ more than them.” Draco handed her her wand that Blaise had disarmed from her and placed a hand on her face, tilting her chin up as his cool eyes stared intently into hers. “However, don’t bait a powerful wizard over a fit of anger.”

Astoria’s eyes moved down, breaking their eye contact and she nodded, leaning into his hand slightly. “I shouldn’t have done that. That was wrong,” she sighed. 

“Was it true?”

Astoria pressed her lips together, her eyes meeting his again as amusement filled them.

“Disgusting.”


	19. Chapter 19

 

“Interesting that Daphne is going to be married to the Pucey boy,” Narcissa told Draco, scrunching her nose. “Though I suppose her mother _was_ friends with Rhys Pucey, but their family is definitely not one I’d choose for _my_ daughter if I had one.” 

Yes, his mother definitely had her opinions about the _partying_ families, and Draco could understand why. Pucey’s behavior especially was a bit eccentric and theatrical for his tastes.

“The Pucey name is fine to the pure-blood world as a whole, it’s just unfavorable to _us_. Daphne has lost her desire to act properly over time, so she is more suited for their type now. I can’t imagine her putting up with many of your infamous _teas_ for much longer.” 

“Yes, well. It is good then I suppose, for her. No need to let a pretty girl go to waste. Perhaps if you hadn’t _humiliated_ the girl for sport she would be different and more like her sister.” 

“I did not humiliate her,” he scoffed. Why was he to blame for her own actions as if he had _forced_ himself upon her? “She humiliated herself. I did not pursue her heavily, nor did I trick her or promise her love or any sort of bullshit of like that, so if it was not me it would have been someone else.”

Narcissa sighed, an understanding look falling over her face. “It’s difficult, Draco. It’s difficult to be a woman with so many standards to live up to. I can see why some have a desire to rebel.” 

As it was to be a man. 

“I suppose it has to be or there wouldn’t be anyone on top, no? As we’d all be on the top?” 

“Which is exactly why it’s so difficult, you’re right. There have to be people on the bottom for there to be a top.” 

Draco watched the wall, tapping his index finger against his leg as he sorted through his thoughts. “Astoria announced to Potter that Blaise slept with his little girlfriend.” 

He heard his mother’s teacup clatter against the plate as she dropped it down in surprise. “I _beg_ your pardon? Blaise with.. The _Weasley_ girl? Or does Potter have a new female in his life?!” 

“The Weasley girl,” Draco confirmed gravely. He never expected Blaise to have such low standards, and he was still trying to grasp it himself, though he knew Astoria wasn’t lying.

It was the fact that she knew when he didn’t is what unnerved him. 

“I _cannot_ belief that. That’s simply.. Ugh. Unfortunate. Of all the little blood traitors he could dirty himself with. The homely Weasley girl? Honestly,” Narcissa scoffed in disgust, sniffing. 

“Mmm. Yes, I agree. Unfortunately Potter isn’t likely to let up on Blaise now, and I wouldn’t doubt he has a resentment towards Astoria as well for telling him in such a humiliating fashion,” he said bitterly, imagining Potter having it out for his wife. 

“He believed her?” 

“Seemed as much, and I’m sure he’ll ask the girl himself and she’ll be too much of an idiot to lie well enough. Astoria was going to give him a memory of the evidence, but Blaise attacked her. So that added to how believable she was.”

“He _attacked_ a woman from _my_ family? In _my_ house?” Narcissa demanded, adjusting angrily in her seat. “How would he _dare_? He’s lucky he even comes _near_ our circle with the way his mother behaves with her ever disappearing husbands! I would hope you showed him his place.”

Draco sighed, thinking of how he had reacted. He hadn’t wanted to harm his friend, though the way he had spoken of his wife definitely didn’t sit well with him. His behavior had definitely _warranted_ more than what Draco had given him. “I.. Made him leave.” 

“Draco,” Narcissa began harshly. “A _friend_ doesn’t come near the importance of _family_ , and it could be that soon she will be the only family you have.” 

He looked at her sharply and searched her eyes, growing upset at her words. “Don’t say that, mother. You aren’t going anywhere,” he insisted quietly. “I need you.” 

Narcissa’s features softened and she looked down at her cup, sighing. “You don’t _need_ me. I can promise you that. You’re a strong man. The only person that can destroy you is yourself.”

Draco grit his teeth, disturbed by the way she spoke of herself as if she would disappear from his life at any moment. He most certainly _did_ need her. She kept him grounded, kept him sane. She was his _humanity_ and the only thing keeping him from morphing into his father. “It’s a bit creepy, isn’t it? Unnerving. That Astoria would know that about Blaise and the Weasley girl. I hadn’t had a clue, and he was my closest friend,” he said slowly after a while, changing the subject.

“She _is_ the daughter of Aldrich Greengrass,” Narcissa pointed out, as if that explained everything. 

“So I’ve been made aware of more than once,” he replied dully. “She’s also the daughter of an uppity bitch that can’t be trusted. A great set of parents she comes from, indeed.” 

Narcissa laughed lightly. “Freya isn’t as horrible as she tries to portray herself. Besides, I wouldn’t automatically assume Joseph Nott is simply a victim.” 

“I’m not sure what would warrant her taking his family secrets they stupidly trusted her with and selling them to her husband.” 

From what Draco had gathered, the Notts had been invested into companies involved with muggles, and were making quite a bit of their fortune off of that, among a few other frowned upon activities they had participated in. 

Narcissa looked uncertain and Draco searched her face, curiosity nagging at him. “Draco,” she warned. “I do not give you permission to just start rummaging through my head. It’s incredibly impolite and uncomfortable. There are some things, many things, that I wish to keep private.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Then keep those private and allow me to see the things I wish to. It is much faster than trying to tell it as a gossip story.”

“I don’t want to,” she huffed, brushing her hair back from her shoulders, defiant. “And I’m the mother. I’m the boss. I _birthed_ you.” 

“You should be happy I’m interested in my wife’s family. It means I’m interested in _her._ Isn’t that what you want? To discover my deep, _undying_ love for her and whatnot?”

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at him in irritation and sat back for a moment, considering. He fought a smirk, knowing his mother would fall into such an idea. “Fine,” she said after a while. “I’ll allow it. Watch yourself though, Draco. Don’t go digging for things I’m not comfortable with _my son_ digging through.” 

“I’ll do my best,” he said impatiently, sinking into her head and dragging up memories to the surface. 

Freya Krat was sitting next to Joseph Nott as Narcissa approached the Slytherin table in the Great Hall silently, sitting across from them and beside Rhys Pucey who squinted at her when she sat next to him. “Natalie. Pleased to have you join us. Don’t know why you’re here, but pleased,” he greeted, pushing food into his mouth. 

“Narcissa,” she corrected, grimacing at his eating habits as she adjusted herself carefully and sat up properly.

“Crazy bitch’s sister,” he dismissed her, focusing on his food. 

Freya eyed Narcissa, pursing her lips. “You really are set on being my friend, Black. It’s endearing, but not asked for.” 

“I can’t simply eat near you without being accused of forcing myself on you?” Narcissa inquired, gathering food onto her plate. 

“Is that what you _eat_?” Freya asked, dropping the first subject, her eyebrows coming together. “That’s _all_ sugar. No wonder you’re constantly covering your body.” 

“Some people actually eat food, Freya,” Rhys told her slowly as if he were speaking to a small child. “Imagine that.”

“Some people ought to not eat so much, Rhys,” she replied just as condescendingly and Joseph rolled his eyes next to her.

Narcissa frowned, pulling at her robes self consciously. “I cover myself out of modesty, not because there is anything wrong with my body. I don’t feel the need to flaunt myself to allof the men in the school,” she sniffed and gave Freya a side eyed look. “Or _shorten_ my skirts for attention.” 

Rhys snickered and Joseph smirked, looking down at Freya. “She’s got a point,” he told her, nodding down to her thighs that were well exposed beneath the table in result of her magically shortened skirt.

“Perhaps she does,” Freya agreed, her lips twitching as she seemingly fought a smirk as well. “Well, Narcissa. At least you’re not as pathetic as I thought you were.” 

“Don’t flatter me too much, Freya or it will go to my head,” Narcissa quipped sarcastically, taking a bite of her pudding. 

“But really. Stop following me around like a lost puppy or I might have to feel a bit of pity for you if I ever have to fuck you over.” 

“She’s right, Black. She’s a horrible friend. It’s terrible being stuck with her,” Joseph said gravely. “You’d best stay away if you don’t want to be miserable.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Narcissa said, sounding unbothered.

“Actually, I don’t know what I could possibly want from you, seeing as Malfoy is useless to me,” Freya considered thoughtfully.

“Aw, that’s adorable. You and Malfoy? You can take turns braiding each other’s hair,” Rhys said, putting a hand over his heart, clicking his tongue. 

“Who is meant to pull whose hair during sex?” Joseph asked, raising an eyebrow at Narcissa. 

Freya covered her mouth as she snorted with laughter and grabbed her water, looking at Narcissa expectantly as she waited for a reply. Narcissa flushed and shifted uncomfortably, ducking her head slightly. “What an entirely inappropriate question,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “I’m hoping for _no_ hair pulling, thank you. That sounds very unappealing.” 

Joseph tsked and shook his head. “Oh, come now, Black. Surely you can’t be _that_ boring.” 

“Can’t even handle someone pulling your hair? Oh, life is going to be a rough one for you,” Freya added, mock sympathy in her voice. “With the things I hear about your sister I’d think you were a bit less sheltered.” 

“Malfoy is an idiot, Black. I think you could do better,” Joseph said, poking around at his food with his fork. 

“He’s not _that_ much of an idiot, Joseph. Be fair. He has a few decent qualities,” Freya remarked, throwing the hair of her long ponytail behind her back. 

“Oh? Defending Malfoy now, are we? Perhaps she _is_ after your desired husband, Black. Prepare yourself,” Joseph said smoothly, looking Freya up and down. 

“Careful, Nott. You sound a bit jealous,” Freya chided, amusement flickering in her eyes before she continued. “No, I just think it necessary to give credit where credit is due. The more you underestimate people the more you’re going to find yourself caught off guard when they exceed your expectations. It’s best to be prepared.” 

“Mmm,” he replied, disinterested. 

“Who knows, Joseph,” Freya went on, her voice skeptical. “We don’t know what things will be like in the future. The Malfoy family could be looking _down_ at you one day.”

Joseph scoffed loudly, chuckling. “You’re cute, love.” 

“Besides, who is to say she could do better? She has the potential to be an even bigger idiot, doesn’t she? We don’t know.” 

“You’re absolutely right. She _is_ trying to be your friend,” Joseph said, nodding. 

“It’s adorable when you try to be offensive, but you know I’m the single best thing that ever happened to you and your boring life,” Freya told him sweetly.

Narcissa watched Freya, tilting her head. “Your hair seems unbearably long. Why do you bother with all of that?” 

“Proper witches grow out their hair,” Freya said dismissively, narrowing her eyes at Sylvia Able as she passed the section of the table they were seated at. “You should know our history.”

Narcissa blinked in disbelief. “That’s rather.. Traditional of you,” she said slowly. 

“Are we not meant to be _traditional_ , darling? Is that not the _pure-blood_ way?”

“Well.. I mean we are, but that’s.. Ancient. If you’re truly referring to what I think you are referring to. We aren’t those witches anymore. That is if you even choose to believe those tales.”

Joseph grimaced at the conversation and Rhys widened his eyes in a way to indicate that the topic was the opposite of preferred. 

Freya laughed coldly, watching Narcissa carefully. “If I choose to _believe_ those _tales_? You speak of our history, our ancestors in such a way? We aren’t _those witches_ anymore? Have you no respect for our magic? Tell me, Black. Why _aren’t_ we _those witches_ anymore?”

Rhys groaned. “Why did you get her started, Nancy?”

“Narcissa,” she corrected shortly to him before looking at Freya. “Are you honestly this invested? You’re actually one of _those_?”

“Yes she _honestly_ is,” Joseph interjected, rolling his eyes. “It’s why she smells of essential oils and incense all the time and whatever else comes along with her.. Devotions.” 

“So sweet of you to memorize how I smell, dear. Didn’t know you paid _that_ much attention. Yes, it’s true that I smell like a _witch_ unlike the women you usually have crawling all over you covered in at least half a bottle of hideously whorish perfume.” 

Narcissa looked uncomfortable and watched her with guarded eyes as the two went back and forth. “Don’t get too confident, I’m sure even Pucey notices and he is quite less observant than I.” 

“I’m observant of the important things,” Rhys said as he watched a woman walk by, smirking at the back of her figure. 

The memories blurred forward to Narcissa catching up with Freya once again as she walked down the halls of Hogwarts. “Oh. It’s my shadow,” Freya drawled, glancing down at her with disinterest. “So thrilled you could make it.” 

“Have you heard of the whispers about this.. Following of this man who has ambitions of taking over the wizarding world,” Narcissa asked in a hushed voice, her tone worried. 

“Of course I’ve heard. Let it just be known that I will always know more than you, and I will always know it _before_ you,” Freya answered, her voice bored. 

Narcissa shook her head impatiently, quickening her steps to keep in pace. “I feel like a lot of our men are.. Interested in it.. I don’t like the sound of it.”

Something odd crossed Freya’s eyes before she quickly covered it again with her indifferent expression. “Try to learn that there is not much we can do about the foolish things men choose to do or follow in their spare time, Black. We are simply along for the ride, no matter how bumpy it may get.”

“But I saw Joseph talking with Lucius. Civilly. They _never_ speak to each other, and they looked like they were actually.. Engaged in what they were talking about.”

“And?” 

Narcissa opened her mouth to reply before a tall, older boy crossed them, grabbing Freya and thrusting her towards the castle wall, her head smacking against the stone. Freya yelped, holding her head in pain. “Why do I hear things about you,” the boy said softly to her, his voice chillingly cold. “Unfavorable things. Things that embarrass our family.” 

Freya stared down at the floor as she regained her posture, blinking quickly as her eyes watered. “I’m not sure what you mean, Roderick,” she told him quietly, pressing against the wall to hold herself up. 

She flinched when Roderick Krat raised his hand towards her to grab her face, yanking her towards him angrily. “You strut around here like a pompous slut and act like you don’t remember your place,” he sneered. “Yet I know you remember it. Because here you are. In your true form. Pathetic and scared.” 

The boy tore away from her impatiently and strode down the halls. Narcissa moved forward quickly towards her worriedly, looking behind her at her head where blood began to color her light blonde hair. “You’re bleeding,” she said, concern filling her voice. “We should go to the Hospital Wing.” 

“No,” Freya snapped, her eyes looking unfocused as she grasped onto the wall dizzily. “You idiot. Go to the Hospital Wing and what? Get my brother in trouble? Then what will he do to me?” 

Narcissa frowned and she held onto Freya’s arm, watching her eyes. “We don’t have to tell them it was him, but I think you need to go. It doesn’t look good.” 

“He will know I went.” 

Joseph came into view and he moved around Narcissia to get to his friend. He turned Freya silently, looking at the back of her head. He parted the hair there gingerly to examine the wound causing Freya to wince and jerk away from him. Joseph shook his head, disgust in his eyes. “I grow tired of healing you to protect that worthless excuse of a man.” 

“Imagine how tired I am.” 

When Draco returned to the Manor, he could hear Astoria humming a tune he didn’t recognize as he approached his bedroom. 

She had listened for once. 

He entered the room to find her reading before looking up at him, appearing relieved to see him. “How was your mother? I do miss talking to her,” she told him, setting her book aside to give him her full attention. 

“She was as she usually is. She asks about you as well,” he told her, amused when a pleased expression crossed her features as he informed her of his mother’s interest in her. The fact that she genuinely seemed to have sincere positive feelings towards his mother gave him a certain affection for her.

“You have an uncle I understand, yes?” 

Astoria looked surprised at that and nodded, looking curious. “Yes, I do. My mother mentioned him the other night. Roderick. He lives in Germany near that side of my family.”

“Do you like him?” 

Her face clouded and her mouth turned down as she shook her head slowly. “I don’t. My mother acts strange around him. She’s scared of him, and he was always particularly horrible to Daphne.” 

“I see,” he replied, unsurprised by her answer based on what he had witnessed earlier. 

“Why do you ask?” 

“Curious.” He wasn’t interested in discussing his findings with her at the moment.

She nodded quietly, seemingly in her own thoughts now. Draco moved to sit next to her on the bed, drawing her towards him.

“Are you hungry? We could have dinner,” she told him, looking more interested in the idea herself. He was quite sure _she_ was the hungry one.

“Yes. Let’s go out,” he told her, watching her expression light up, an odd feeling at the sight stirring in him.

“Really?”

“Well, I missed your birthday, and you’re always stuck here. I don’t want you to go mad in result of staring at the dark decor for days on end. A mad wife is not a good look on my reputation,” he told her, amused at her excitement. 

“Yes it would, and I can assure you I’m coming close,” she told him, her voice feigning seriousness.

“Then I suppose it’s necessary.” 

“It’s like.. A date,” she mused, smiling to herself. “I’ve never been on a date before.” 

“Alright, let’s get on with it,” he told her, his eyebrows coming together as he slightly grimaced.

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding her hands up. “I apologize. I won’t be overly sentimental out loud to avoid making you uncomfortable.” 

“Good. Change.” 

Once sat in the dimly lit restaurant Astoria looked around satisfied, her eyes glowing. He felt a pang of remorse as he thought of how pleased she was just to get out of the house, something he could have been easily been doing with her before this. He knew _he_ would lose his mind being isolated at the Manor as much as she had been, and she was much more fond of company than he was. 

“You could have told me it was your birthday,” he told her, examining the menu.

“I told you. You were gone all day.” 

Draco rolled his eyes to the ceiling, staring at it. “You could have told me the day _prior_ ,” he said slowly, impatient. 

“It wasn’t important, and I didn’t think you’d care,” she told him, her voice indifferent.

“Glad to know you believe I have no conscience,” he told her stiffly. “You’re right, why _would_ I care about my wife’s birthday?”

She looked up at him from her menu, watching him. “You have told me yourself that I don’t matter to you.” 

Draco sighed inwardly. Yes, he had said those things. He supposed he couldn’t be irritated with her for just simply listening to him. “Fine. Next time you may simply tell me of something like this.”

“Okay,” she said brightly, ordering her food eagerly when the waiter came around. 

She certainly was more enthusiastic about food than most women he knew, more enthusiastic than himself as well. 

“Is your sister anorexic?” He asked her, trying to think back on Daphne’s eating habits at Hogwarts, not that he ever had his attention on things like that, especially not Daphne Greengrass of all people. They had been friends in some settings, but he never particularly cared about her.

“That depends on who you ask, I suppose.” 

“Depends on who I ask,” he repeated slowly. “Seems like more of a simple yes or no question to me.” 

“Well, when _most_ women I know restrict their diet severely in some way at some time, it becomes quite normal,” she told him, looking up at the ceiling as she considered this. “She goes through phases, I guess. She seems very thin now, I think it is from stress. That was something my uncle got on her about. When we were younger especially. He always commented on her weight, and after every time we saw him she would barely eat. He made comments about mine as well, but not like he did with her. His comments didn’t bother me anyway. I know I’m thin enough.” 

“It’s good you know that. I wouldn’t want to deal with you not eating and making yourself sick,” he replied, growing more and more irritated with this uncle.

“I know my mother was truly horrible with eating. She was in the Hospital Wing often from passing out and being malnourished. I don’t know much about her Hogwarts years, though. Only small details and from what people say,” Astoria went on.

“Odd that the most beautiful women are the ones that fall into that head space,” he observed, examining the food that was set in front of him. 

“That’s nice of you,” she commented, picking up her silverware. 

“Mmm?” 

“You said that my mother was beautiful. That’s nice of you. You don’t normally say things like that.” 

Draco stopped, looking at her for a moment. “ _You’re_ beautiful, Astoria,” he told her evenly, truthfully. 

He wondered what she thought of herself, if she believed herself very beautiful. He wondered what she thought _he_ thought of her appearance. Judging by her shocked and flattered reaction, it seemed she believed him to think very _little_ of her appearance. How strange.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling widely. “So are you, Draco.” 

He snorted and took a bite of his food, raising an eyebrow at her. “I know.” 


	20. Chapter 20

 

Narcissa Black entered the Hogwarts library, looking around at the occupied sitting areas before ducking her head and moving towards a more vacant area. She slowed when she saw Aldrich Greengrass sitting alone at his own table as he worked on his school assignments, his papers and books all arranged neatly in front of him. She moved to pass his table to find another place to sit but paused, seemingly debating with herself in her head before moving towards his table and sinking down in a chair near him slowly. When he didn’t speak, or even look up at her for that matter, Narcissa set her books down and spread them out as she settled herself down to work. 

After a few minutes, she broke her focus to look at the man beside her who was still deeply into what he was working on. He didn’t seem to notice she had arrived at all. She studied his dark features, her grey eyes scanning what could be seen of his body above the table from the side of her eye, trying to not to be obvious about what she was doing.

“Are you here to study for your classes or are you here to study me?” Narcissa jumped when his deep voice filled their quiet workspace, her face going pink. 

“Apologies, there weren’t many other places to sit,” she said, her words coming out a bit messed. She smoothed her hair back behind her head, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear as she gathered her composure after he had startled her.

“As I could gather. I’m capable of coming up with simple explanations, but thank you for assuming otherwise. That doesn’t answer my question, and why you are invading my space is not what I asked,” he said, his slow and careful words colored with amusement as his eyes flickered up from the pages he was working on to her. 

Narcissa watched his alarmingly pale eyes that contrasted sharply with his dark hair and thick, black eyelashes before looking away and at the table. “Well, I haven’t been around you since we were quite young, and I’m usually more familiar with people in our circle.”

“Again,” he said, his voice even slower. “That doesn’t answer my question.” 

“I’m _trying_ to explain why I was familiarizing myself with your appearance,” she responded, looking slightly flustered and embarrassed. “Excuse me if I was staring.” 

“You were staring. There is no reason to add an _if_ , as you are aware that that was what you were doing.” 

Narcissa scowled and shifted uncomfortably. “ _Excuse me_ , then. As I said.” 

“We will see,” he replied gently, his quill moving slowly over his work. 

Narcissa went back to her books, shuffling through them impatiently as she decided on what she wanted to study next.

“Be still.” 

She froze at his words before frowning at him. “I am being perfectly normal. May I not change my reading?” 

“You are being perfectly _loud_ , and if you insist on being in my presence I would prefer it if you weren’t fidgeting all over me.”

“I don’t insist on being in _your_ presence specifically,” she muttered. “You just don’t need a whole table to yourself.”

“If you insist on that answer, Narcissa.”

“What do you mean if I insist? Why must _all_ men be so confident in being desired?” 

“I said nothing about desire, you did,” he replied, his voice becoming darker, a teasing air to it.

“You implied it!” 

“What _men_ are you comparing me to? I surely hope not Lucius Malfoy, I can’t think of many greater offenses.” 

Narcissa seemed to struggle with an answer before she seemingly gave up, shifting through her books again. 

Aldrich reached forward and took one of her books, examining the cover. “Occlumency,” he observed. “Are you learning?” 

“Yes,” she answered, watching him hold her book in his careful hands as he opened it and flipped through the pages, scanning them.

“Do you fear someone is going to come rummaging through that fragile mind of yours?” Aldrich’s voice was a low purr as he spoke, his eyes slowly moving up to find hers, his mouth curling into a slight smirk.

Narcissa swallowed, looking away from his eyes and back down at her book in his hands before clearing her throat quietly. “Perhaps,” she quipped, taking the book back from him. He allowed her to take it, picking his quill back up from where he had set it down. 

“Your sister knows a bit about that, doesn’t she?” He asked, his question sounding more like a statement as he focused back on his work.

Narcissa looked confused at the mention of her older sister, but was seemingly determined to keep up with this man. “I think so.. Why? Do you know her well?”  
“Are you close with your sisters?” 

An irritated look crossed her face as he ignored her question, but she moved on from it. “Not particularly. They're older than me, obviously. I do love them both, but we are all very different. Especially Bella. Bella is-“ 

“Stop talking,” he said suddenly, his voice simple as he interrupted her, his hand stilling over his work. 

Narcissa cut off, her voice stopping in her throat mid-sentence to make an odd guttural sound. She looked around curiously, confused at why he stopped her. Aldrich was silent and still, his eyes unfocused as he seemed to be listening to something. He resumed writing after a few quiet moments, Narcissa still unmoving and watching him in her seat. 

“Go on,” he ordered her evenly.

“What was that? I don’t understand what you were listening to. It’s very rude to interrupt you know. Especially when _you_ asked _me_ the question,” she huffed, looking around them again.

“I said go on,” he said carefully, thoughtfully. “It’s quite a simple direction, pet. Surely you are capable of figuring it out.” 

“Hmm,” she replied irritably, considering her options. “Alright. Well, Bella is a bit.. Off. I’m sure you’ve heard stories.” 

“I’ve heard stories,” he confirmed. 

Narcissa squinted at him, adjusting her robes. “Of course you’ve heard stories. As I’ve heard stories about you.”

“They must be decent tales seeing as you’re so interested in me.” 

“As I was saying,” she said, changing the subject. “Bella is difficult. I prefer Andromeda.”

“But you aren’t close with her?” 

“Well..” Narcissa said slowly, thinking this over. “Well, yes. I suppose I am.”

Aldrich paused for a moment, his head tilting slightly before resuming. 

“Shame.”

 

Draco was pulled from the recollections of the memories he had witnessed when Pansy’s voice cut through the room. Her voice had always been particularly piercing. “Theo, don’t you fancy yourself a wife soon?” Pansy Parkinson asked Nott who was sat near Blaise as he usually was. “Surely your parents must be pushing you.” 

Blaise had since calmed down since the incident, though he seemed entirely unwilling to stick around should it be mentioned, so no one had. Not that any of them seemed particularly interested in discussing his revolting, blood traitorous activities with the hideous Weasley female. Draco never did understand why so many had been taken with her. She was nothing special and the hair color was alarming, an eyesore. As well as that she acted as if she were a _man_ , especially when she played Quidditch.

“Surely your parents must be pushing _you_ , Pansy,” Nott replied, raising an eyebrow at her. “Best you be concerned about yourself, no?” 

Pansy rolled her eyes at him and tossed her dark hair back behind her shoulders. “Yes, they have. I will get to it eventually. I’ve been considering traveling first, maybe find myself a hobby abroad. I’m a bit sick of the wizards here. Bored, really,” she said, her voice slightly a drawl as she tried to portray carelessness.

“Or you’d just like to run from your reputation,” Draco said, looking to her lazily. 

Pansy seemingly ground her teeth at his comment but gave him a cold smile. “My reputation is quite fine, thank you, fine enough to be comfortable. There are many men who would be perfectly content with having me. More than three pure-blood families exist, you know,” she told him confidently, smoothing her clothes.

Pansy had always tried her best to put on a strong face, though she was quite weak in her true character. At Hogwarts she had desperately wanted him to commit to her as she offered herself to him so many times, seeking his affections, as if he could find anything worth being interested in as someone as shallow as her. 

As if he could find anything worth being interested in anyone with as shallow as _he_ was.

Still, she had been loyal to him, and he could appreciate that for what it was worth, Unfortunately for her, what she could offer him was worth very little. Pansy came from a very good name as far as bloodlines go, but as far as appearances and reputation her name was nothing favorable at the moment. If she had been a bit smarter about her choices and played the game correctly then perhaps she could have done some good to her name. 

But of course, Pansy was an idiot. 

She _believed_ herself clever in that if she gained Draco’s adorations then with how much Narcissa favored her son then she might arrange him to someone of his choosing, that someone being Pansy. It was quite a weak plan, but she had stuck through it throughout their school years despite the fact that Draco never committed to her and never showed her any care outside of a bit of friendship. Besides, she had overestimated Narcissa’s affections for him, _never_ would she have married Pansy to him. He suspected he would first be disowned before his mother allowed that to happen.

Pitiful girl. 

He had to hand it to her, she was still proud and kept her head up, despite how ridiculous she seemed to so many. She kept her composure still, even when the other boys in their house would mock her for her pining, or when he would touch other girls right in front of her, knowing how it upset her. 

_Reveling_ in it.

“Whatever reason I may have, I need space from home,” she said firmly, nodding to herself. 

He couldn’t imagine Pansy out on her own, trying to find a future outside from him, and he doubted she could imagine that herself, which was why she was needing to convince herself of it now.

“The Ministry won’t let us leave,” Blaise said, eyeing her. 

Pansy waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve spoken to them and they’ve said I can be cleared to leave if I cooperate with conditions. The only ones fully fucked are _actual_ Death Eaters.” Pansy looked at Draco, tilting her head up. “You and Nott are basically on house arrest for who knows _how_ long.”

“I’ve left the Manor many times. As for the area: no matter. I have nothing to run from,” Draco responded, uncaring.

“Some would disagree,” she muttered, turning her slightly flattened face from him.

“What was that, Pansy? Did you have something worthwhile to say?” He asked her, narrowing his eyes slightly. She did have a habit of getting a nasty attitude when she wasn’t getting her way, and she didn’t get her way very often. 

She had an attitude often.

“It’s not as if _Death Eaters_ are particularly favored in the public eye at the moment now are they, Draco?” She asked boldly, sitting up straighter and crossing one leg over the other.

“When did we start caring about what the _public eye_ thought of us?” Nott scoffed, adjusting his sleeves as he watched her through slightly narrowed eyes.

“We _always_ have. Don’t play that, Theo. Pure-blood opinion matters first, yes, but we can’t possibly hold much power without a decent public image. Draco’s father had power in the Ministry before this, and now he’s-“ 

“I suggest you shut your mouth about my father, Parkinson,” Draco said softly, his voice low. “This is _my_ home.” As much as Draco resented his father at times, he still grew up looking up to him, and his pride for his family was strong. Much too strong to tolerate belittling. 

Pansy closed her mouth and looked away from him, her defined jawline twitching. Yes, she was still obedient to him even now, even now that he was married and there was absolutely no trace of hope for her. 

Because she _loved_ him. 

Or at least she had convinced herself of as much. He wasn’t sure what she believed herself to love, as he never showed her any real part of him, whatever those _real_ parts may be. He was sure she had invented him a personality for her to love, and over the years she had deluded herself into thinking that it was real. He supposed he was just all she had known, what she had latched onto from the beginning, and now she was too far gone to be able to break herself off without a fight.

“Come now, Pans,” Nott cooed. “You know Malfoy only ever liked your mouth for one reason, and that wasn’t for the words that come out of it. Consider a man who cares about more than that, I’m sure you’d be less miserable.”

“Why? Are you _offering_ yourself to me now, Nott?” Pansy said flatly, looking unamused at his mocking. 

“Oh no. Sorry, love. I’ll have to decline on having a go at Malfoy’s leftovers.”

“Interesting you say that, Nott,” Draco said, narrowing his eyes at him. “As you seem quite interesting in having a _go_ at my wife.”

Nott turned his attentions on him and smirked before chuckling lightly. “The fact you’re so bent out of shape about it must indicate that there is a possibility for me to succeed.” 

Draco’s expression didn’t change and he looked back to Pansy who was watching Nott irritably. He would love to see him even _attempt_ to succeed passed his petty flirtatious comments toward Astoria. “Why would you ever be interested in Daphne’s little sister?” Pansy said, wrinkling her nose. “She’s so boring, and she’s not even that pretty.” 

A witch was definitely gorgeous if Pansy felt the need to downgrade her looks, and of course, his wife was absolutely stunning. Pansy was decently attractive, and her body was good, but she was nothing next to Astoria. 

Absolutely _nothing_.

“Who said I was? I don’t recall confirming it. Malfoy is terribly insecure it seems. Understandable, seeing as _Daphne’s little sister_ seems to be the one interested in _me_ ,” Nott said smoothly, tsking. “Poor Malfoy. Can’t even get the baby Greengrass girl to only focus on him without her eyes wandering to something better.”

“I don’t recall her even looking your way in quite a while, Nott, and when she did it was over your advances. Your delusions have come quite a long way, haven’t they? Do you dress up as me at night and stare in the mirror as you daydream about _being_ me? As it seems all you’ve ever wanted was what I’ve had,” Draco drawled, keeping his anger down. 

The last thing he wanted was to award Nott with a reaction. 

“I don’t understand it either, Pansy. I think the girl is absolutely awful,” Blaise commented, narrowing his eyes slightly as he spoke, causing Pansy to perk up a bit at his insult.

“The only reason she would be looking at anyone else is the fact that Draco probably has no interest in the twit and she’s feeling lonely,” Pansy quipped, looking slightly crossed at Draco arguing with Nott and showing _care_ about arguing over another woman.

“Pansy, how lovely to see you,” Astoria’s voice came into the room clearly as she passed through the sitting him, stopping to stand near where he was sitting to smile at the incredibly bitchy faced woman.

“Wisteria, odd I nearly forgot your face,” Pansy replied, looking her up and down with an unimpressed look. “Don’t worry, being plain in appearance can be just as fine. It will help the better genes come out when you have children.”

“I appreciate your positive encouragement about Draco and I’s children. I will keep that in mind,” Astoria replied sweetly, her smile widening.

Draco raised his eyebrow in amusement as Pansy puffed up slightly in irritation, not making any effort to stop any squabble that might rise between them. He wouldn’t mind seeing his wife fight with another woman, though he doubted she would. “Hopefully your family history won’t repeat itself and both your daughters _and_ sons will turn out just fine should you have both,” Pansy said tightly, smiling coldly at Astoria. “Don’t want any to go missing.”

Astoria gave a soft, incredibly chilling laugh that caused Draco to look up at her, slightly surprised at the sound that came from her. “As I hope the same for your future. I would _hope_ you don’t end up in a lowly bar somewhere, caught cheating on your husband with _several_ random _muggle_ men covered in your own drunken vomit to find yourself on the front of many papers that circulate our community. That would truly be unfortunate. Now, I’ll have to ask you to please not attempt to insult me or my family again in _my_ house after doing your sheer best to degrade me in front of _my_ husband,” Astoria said, the corners of her mouth falling in a childlike frown. “I will only ask you once.” 

“She’ll only ask you _once_ , Parkinson,” Blaise commented mockingly, eyeing Astoria with amusement. “Who knows what she’ll do should she have to ask again.”

Yes, who _knows._ Draco was curious to find out since it seemed that his wife did actually carry out her threats seeing as what had happened with Blaise.

Pansy’s eyes flashed horribly at Astoria’s references to her mother and she moved forward in her seat, staring Astoria down. “How _worried_ I am of your warning,” she spat. “Don’t worry, your family is incredibly ordinary to have much to say about. I mean.. Your father is so far from spectacular and your family is so lackluster that he has to hold things over nearly every person to gain this sort of _false_ respect that was only received out of blackmail.” 

Astoria smiled and tilted her head, watching Pansy curiously for a while, and Draco began to think she wouldn’t respond at all. It was quite a weak insult, but Pansy wasn’t ever very clever. “Your mother has told me a lot about you. I’ve had quite a few conversations with her actually, sweet woman, very _honest_. It saddens me how.. Upset she is at her failure to have a son. It saddens me for _you_ as well, Pansy. I know it must be hard to grow up with a mother’s resentment who always wished you were something else, someone else. I mean, showing up first year with all of your hair cut off in result of your mother’s drunken rage as she desired you a boy, well.. That’s not something anyone would have an easy time dealing with. Unfortunately, alcoholic mothers _do_ tend to produce rather pathetic and horribly envious children.” Astoria paused and Draco ran her words through his head, surprised at the coldness in her overly sweet tone. “You want what you can’t and will _never_ have. It’s terribly unfortunate, and I advise you not to _touch_ what isn’t yours. I’d advise you _especially_ not to touch what’s _mine_. I _pity_ you, Pansy. Truly, I do, and let’s not begin on what your _father_ thinks of you. Oh no.. Though I have to say maybe your mother had the correct idea. You are not a proper witch in any sense, it might be best to be rid of your hair again, don’t you agree?” 

An odd expression crossed Pansy’s upset and angry features as his wife spoke the last words in a deliberate and silken voice, a voice Draco could hardly recognize as hers. Astoria watched Pansy intently as Pansy slowly grabbed onto her shoulder-length hair with a shaky hand as unusual tears filled her eyes, her wand coming up underneath it next to her ear, seemingly about to _comply_ with Astoria’s words. 

“ _Pansy_ ,” Blaise hissed, his eyes wild with confusion and alarm, looking from Pansy to Astoria. 

Pansy froze for a moment, realizing what she was doing before standing quickly to point her wand at Astoria angrily, her eyes wild. Draco went to draw his own wand, intending to protect his wife again from another one of his friends she had upset, but Pansy was already disarmed, her wand in Astoria’s hand. Draco watched in surprise, surely Pansy wasn’t _that_ incapable as a witch. 

“You’re very predictable, Pansy,” Astoria said, scowling with false concern. “You ought to improve that. Now, I’m afraid I will have to ask you to leave. I asked you once about your manners and you were unable to listen, and if I’m to have dogs in my house they at least need to be _trained_.” 

Draco heard Nott snort from across the room, his snort cutting off into a bewildered laugh. 

Pansy stared at her, her body fully trembling now and she glanced at Draco and then to the other two men, seemingly wanting their help. No one offered her assistance as they were all equally stunned and not certain on how to react, especially since Pansy was not someone any of them really cared that strongly for. 

“You’re right.. I should give you time to learn. I mean, you have to be good for _something_ ,” Astoria said sadly, her lower lip pouting out slightly and Draco watched her more intently, a desire for her coming over him as he watched her mock his previous lover.

She walked forward slightly, watching Pansy with even more intent than she had prior before smiling eerily. “Here,” she offered softly before throwing Pansy’s wand from the room and into the area of the main entrance of the Manor, not breaking her gaze she held with her.

Pansy’s wand clattered against the wall in the other room but Pansy didn’t move or flinch as Astoria watched her calmly. 

“Fetch.” 

Draco studied the scene, a chill going through him as a tremor went through Pansy right before she dropped to her knees and began moving towards the direction of her wand. 

_Like a dog._

Blaise stood up and went to Pansy, picking her up roughly and spinning her to look at him as he looked at her as if she were completely mad. Pansy seemed to regain herself somewhat and yanked away from him forcibly, stumbling back before rushing out of the room, looking incredibly disturbed and upset. Silence hung in the air after the Manor door slammed in response to her exit.

“That was cruel, Astoria,” Draco said slowly after a few moments, unsure of how to respond to the scene he had just witnessed. It _was_ cruel. Cruel and unnerving, and he wasn’t sure what exactly had happened.

Astoria blinked at him before a small laugh came from her throat, an odd knowing look crossing her eyes. She quickly controlled her laughter before she nodded calmly. “I’ll be in the gardens.” 


	21. Chapter 21

 

 Astoria paced through the gardens, her head throbbing painfully in result of the little stunt she had pulled. She scowled at herself and stopped walking, holding her head. Why had she done that? She had to do something to defend herself from the stupid bint, but making such a scene had been very compulsory, and also conflicted with her usual show of character. She did not want to create such a reputation for herself, any reputation for herself really aside from a proper, well bred young woman. Even her reputation as Daphne’s boring little sister was better than a vindictive and temperamental witch. That reputation was reserved for her mother. How could she waste such efforts on Pansy Parkinson of all people?

She wasn’t sorry. 

She wasn’t sorry, no. Parkinson had overstepped herself, and she had insulted Astoria in her own home and in front of her husband. She had made a reference to a happening in her family that ought not to be mentioned by anyone, a happening that Astoria wouldn’t even allow herself to think of. On top of that, she didn’t want Draco’s well known slut comfortably sitting in the Manor, her Manor, whether she insulted her or not.

Talking to Draco, _her_ Draco. 

She was coming undone here, isolated and taken out of her normal routine. She was becoming more reactive and impulsive, she was becoming emotional. She had always had something to focus on aside from her own emotions and specific feelings and opinions towards things. Now she was trapped to face herself and her own raw character while she experienced this new section of her life. She surely wasn’t used to being insulted by a woman so absolutely beneath her, and she was not prepared to tolerate it. She didn’t care what Parkinson thought of her, the girl was delusional as it was, but what she did care about was the nerve of her. If she let one person demean her in front of others, surely others would think it perfectly acceptable to do the same. Her whole family reputation was built on the demand of respect, and it that respect wasn’t received there would be repercussions. She wouldn’t be the start of that changing. 

Draco hadn’t seemed all too pleased with her when she had left the room, and the thought made her more bitter than anything. First he had disrespected her by speaking of her like she was one of his random sexual partners, and then he had done nothing to control his incredibly stupid plaything. No interest in her? Which is precisely why he practically held her captive in his bedroom and slept so close to her every night, because he had no interest. Parkinson was absolutely out of her mind to try to say Draco had no interest in Astoria when it was her who spent her Hogwarts years “dating” Draco who blatantly treated her with zero regard and zero loyalty.

And she had allowed it. 

She had allowed it because she was weak and had no pride, but Astoria did have pride when it came to her appearance. When they were alone, she simply wished for decent treatment, but in front of others she had to demand it, expect it. It was one matter to publicly scold her, but to allow others to speak down to her? No, she wouldn’t have it, her father wouldn’t have it. As her husband, it should only be him speaking down to her, and perhaps a few other choice wizards such as his father.

Astoria stilled when she heard him approaching, her breath catching as it usually did as she carefully assessed his pace and the heaviness of his steps. It was always difficult to sense his mood, as he usually carried himself in the same way. She didn’t turn to look at him so he took it upon himself to turn her around to face him. She lowered her arms from her head that she was clutching and looked up at him, searching his face for indications of how angry he was.

“What did you do,” he asked levelly, his face mostly unreadable aside from the odd look in his eye, a sort of guardedness there. 

“I am not sure what you mean by that, Draco,” she replied, furrowing her brow at him. 

His eyes narrowed and he grabbed her chin, his eyes searching hers impatiently. “Playing coy is only cute for just a few short moments, I can assure you. Answer me properly before I become angry with you.” His voice was cool, but not worryingly furious. She could work with this.

Perhaps he had softened towards her, even just ever so slightly. 

“Does that mean you are not angry with me already?” She asked him softly, placing her and on top of the one that held her chin. 

Draco’s eyes flickered and his hold on her relaxed slightly before his gaze hardened again and he yanked her chin up slightly. 

“Are you attempting to manipulate me, love?” 

Well, based on his slip of composure she wasn’t just attempting. 

“I’m just trying to display my desire to only please you and not upset you, Draco,” she told him quietly. 

“Then you had better answer my question, no?” 

“It was nothing very exciting,” she said dismissively after taking a deep breath. “A party trick really.” 

“A party trick,” he repeated slowly. “You call Pansy, a capable witch, humiliating herself seemingly by choice a _party trick_?” 

“A capable witch?” She scoffed in disbelief, practically wanting to spit at the idea as jealousy sparked inside of her.

Draco’s eyes darkened and his lips pulled into a familiar smirk, his hand on her jaw moving to caress the side of her face. She felt her eyelids grow slightly heavier in response, and she leaned into his touch just barely, but enough for him to notice and cause his smirk to deepen even more into his features. “Yes, Astoria. She’s a capable witch,” he told her, his tone sweet with mocking. “Capable in many ways.’ 

Astoria fought hard against her impulsive desire to tear herself from his grasp in her disgust. He was taunting her with her now apparent jealousy and wanted a reaction, she knew, but she still couldn’t control anger stirring in her stomach. 

She knew he had been with many women, knew about Pansy, knew he most likely would be with more women even after their marriage. Why was this just hitting her now? Why was this making her so angry? He acting jealous over Theodore, but Theodore hadn’t ever actually touched Astoria, had _sex_ with her. She barely knew him, and Draco had been around Pansy his whole life. 

“If she’s a capable witch then that must make me an utterly perfect one,” she said strongly, almost snapping at him. 

“Control your attitude, Astoria,” he told her firmly, looking caught off guard with her. “I will compliment who I please.” 

Compliment who he pleased? Parkinson had insulted her. To insult her was an insult to himself as well, as she was his wife and had his name.

“Now, be a good girl and explain to me properly, and this time control your tone. I’m not sure what has come over you,” he said, though his tone indicated that he had a clue of what had come over her. 

“It was just something I learned from my father. A form of Legilimency. I’m not very good at it, but Parkinson is just so weak willed and pathetic that it was effective,” she sniffed. “A part of her had to believe what I was saying.” 

Draco shook his head, looking away from her irritably. “I’m becoming quite tired of hearing about your father. Surely as a woman you would have been more under your mother’s wing.”

Not at all, her life had revolved around her father up until now, and now her life revolved around Draco. She was lost in transition between the two men, and life revolving around her husband was much different than life revolving around her father. She wasn’t sure who she was in this environment or what her life meant, and the current stress of everything going on in their world as well as the outside world was not helping her adjust or find herself.

“My temper isn’t usually this horrible,” she said slowly, gathering her thoughts. “This is a large life adjustment, and I’m not usually so alone with myself. I’m not used to you, I’m not used to these types of interactions, I’m not used to any of this. I’ve been brought up to stand up for my name, as have you. It’s a bit off-putting to have the ex sexual partner of my husband speak to me in such a way and bring up certain things.. That should not have been brought up in what is meant to be my home.” 

“Your attitude isn’t usually this horrible either. You’ve had more than enough time to adjust. I’m not going to accept that excuse any longer, as you’ve been raised from an infant on how to act properly. I warned you after you humiliated Blaise, and yet you were unable to listen.”

“You told me not to bait a powerful wizard in a fit of anger,” she told him calmly. “I don’t believe I baited anyone, let alone anyone _powerful_.”

Draco let out a short laugh and considered this before nodding his head once. “I suppose you are correct, though it should have been an unspoken warning, and you should know better. You do know better.” 

“You can’t expect me to allow myself and my family degraded.” 

“ _I’m_ your family, Astoria,” he said, his voice becoming harsh. “I don’t know how many times we have to go over this. Your loyalty is to me.”

“Yes, and I am yours. Which is why I can’t imagine why you’d allow me to be spoken of in that way by someone so beneath me.” 

“I wouldn’t have allowed it, but you took the liberties upon yourself. However, as much as it would have amused me to see you two get into a decent spat; I don’t believe it necessary to go the route you did,” he said, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. 

“Why are you defending her? Why do you care about her?” She asked, flustered at his discomfort at how she handled the woman.

“Ah, love. Your jealousy is endearing. I wasn’t sure it existed with how you hadn’t seem to care much at all about all of my past endeavors with women, but it’s rather entertaining to see it come out now,” he purred, drawing her body close to his but not quite holding it against it, the warmth of his body touching her senses.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said stiffly, bothered by his tormenting.

“I don’t have to. You submit to me, not the other way around. I ask the questions and you answer. It’s a rather simple concept that you should be well aware of by now. You’re supposed to be at least.” 

Astoria shut her mouth, growing more frustrated by the moment. She held her breath, attempting to get a hold of herself. Perhaps she should try counting to ten? She was upset at herself for being such a mess, upset at herself for letting Parkinson of all people to get to her. 

“I don’t care about her, not at all. However, there is no need for such a display of.. Questionable magic,” he told her, a distastefulness in his tone.

Questionable magic? He had been a Death Eater, he had grown up around dark magic, his family collected dark objects of magic. Most of them prided themselves on being dark wizards and witches. He was no stranger to _questionable_ magic. 

Ah, but she was a woman. 

He had told her what she did was cruel, which fell well in line with her mother’s common claim, “Men are known to be cruel, but a woman’s cruelty will turn heads, and men are unnerved by the competition.” She had been cruel, and had displayed her cruelty to an audience he was well acquainted with. Cruelty that challenged his own, as Draco was far from being the most intimidating dark wizard out there. She had made him uncomfortable with her show of dark magic, made him feel shown up. 

“Are you afraid of me, Draco?” She asked coyly, teasing him slightly as she stood taller.

Surprise colored his cool toned eyes before he twitched an eyebrow at her, glancing down her small form as he sized her up. “You’re afraid of me, meaning I harbor control over all of the darkness that may reside in you, which I doubt there is much. I suspect you put out all you have in you today.” 

Was she afraid of him?

Yes, though not in the way he probably suspected, or the same way she had been the first days of their marriage. She had encountered much worse than Draco in terms of harsh men, and from what she had found she could get away with more than she had originally thought without terrible repercussions. She feared him in that he would cast her away, let her suffer in loneliness, waste away into nothing. Furthermore, now that she had grown affectionate towards him: he had even more power over her.

“Poor Nott,” he commented, a smug look covering his features as he brought up the wizard out of no where. “I’m sure that comment about alcoholic mothers got to him. I fear you hurt his feelings, my lovely wife.” 

Astoria blinked in confusion before guilt sunk into her at the realization of what he was referring to. Draco ran his fingertips over her frowning mouth, his hand lingering there. “Why do you care about him?” He asked, repeating her own question to him back to her. 

“I don’t,” she replied quickly, noticing the familiar possession in his eyes. She wondered if the same look had come across her own eyes during her recent scene as well as during their discussion over Draco’s original lover. “I just don’t seek to offend those who have not wronged me.” 

“Mmm. He has wronged you by crossing your husband, by attempting disrespect your marriage,” he said flatly, his eyes watching hers carefully.

“What about when Parkinson disrespected our marriage? You’ve been with her intimately. I’ve never been with Theodore.” 

“You have tried my patience enough with your backtalk for today,” he said softly. “Be done with it.” 

Astoria nodded slowly, recognizing his seriousness. She truly did not want to push him too far, and was shocked she hadn’t already. She was surprised she had gotten away with as much as she had, surprised at herself for displaying such behavior. So impulsive, too raw. It made her uncomfortable, she didn’t like having proper control over her own emotions and actions.

Draco moved forward, brushing his lips against her cheekbone, his teeth grazing against her skin lightly. “I’d like to see how _utterly perfect_ you are now. I’m expecting you to back up that claim with evidence,” he murmured against her cheek before lowering his head to kiss her slowly.

The possession and jealousy she had been pushing down resurfaced as soon as his mouth graced hers, a peculiar and humming adrenaline moving through her body. She slid her hands boldly up his chest, curling her fingers into the fabric of his clothing near his shoulders before circling her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his, kissing him back intently. She felt him take a step back and she followed him, frowning into the kiss. Why was he moving away from her? His hands left her face as he reached behind himself to grab her wrists, unlocking her arms from around his neck and tugging them apart to hold them on either side of him, breaking his lips away from hers. 

She looked up at him, searching his eyes as he looked down at her, his eyes filled with amusement and mocking, always mocking her. “My, you are a spectacle today,” he mused, pulling her against his chest by her wrists while keeping a constrictive hold on them. She felt her face draw into a pitiful expression and he chuckled, dropping her wrists to grip her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh beneath the fabric of her dress. She moved her freed hands back up his chest, stepping closer to him. “You’re trying to tease me.” 

“Indeed. You’re not normally this entertaining.” 

Astoria scowled and looked down, focusing her attention on their touching bodies that blocked her view of the ground. “How am I meant to provide evidence when you are denying me?” 

“Mmm. I would suspect a perfect witch would know the answer herself without needing to ask,” he said smoothly, reaching a hand up to take her hair down. 

“I wish I were perfect,” she said quietly, a seriousness coming over her. 

“I don’t.” 

“Why?” She asked him lamely, looking back up at him. 

“Because it allows me to recognize you as human,” he told her, a strange sincerity crossing his face as he seemed to be talking to himself as well. “And fuck, we all know I’m far from perfect.” 

“In all fairness, I feel like I hardly recognized myself as human until now,” she said slowly, shivering slightly at her words, emotion pulling her down mentally. 

“I suspect most of has have the same debacle.” 

“We are all just miserable beings with well practiced facades,” she whispered, her throat growing tighter. 

Draco was silent and Astoria moved to rest her head on his chest, accepting this moment with him, knowing it would be gone very soon and things would go back to being a confusing mess. They understood each other in this moment, knew exactly how the other felt. It was the most comforting yet tragic feeling, as they knew nothing would change and their lives would remain in the same routine. 

“You’re rather good at Legilimency. Specifically with memories, which can be hard to navigate as you have to know how to be specific. Interesting for you to have excelled in that aspect. Usually people focus more on what’s in one’s current thoughts, rather than scenes of the past,” she said after a while. 

“The past shapes the present, and experiences form the character.”


	22. Chapter 22

 

Eleven year old Astoria Greengrass had her hair in a tight bun, her icy blue eyes watching sternly ahead as she waited to be sorted into her house. She sat herself on the stool, the Sorting Hat barely grazing the little girl’s head before announcing her a Slytherin. She smoothed her hair as she stood, her expression neutral before she gave a polite smile to the professors as she made her way to sit beside her older sister. Daphne had already made a spot for her beside her as she settled herself down, eyeing her. “Well, that was quick,” she quipped, straightening Astoria’s robes as if they were a mess. 

“Daph, remember when you were sorted and it took simply _ages_?” A young Pansy Parkinson simpered tauntingly, leaning over the table from where she was seated next to Draco who was deep into conversation with Blaise. 

“Pans, remember when you cried on the train ride here because you were scared you might end up in Hufflepuff?” Daphne shot back, pushing her hair off of her shoulder. 

Astoria watched them indifferently before her eyes scanned the rest of the tables, looking calm as opposed to most of the first years. Her eyes caught with Theodore’s for a moment and she gave him a smile, nodding her head slightly before moving on with her observations. Theodore watched her as the boys next to him sneered and laughed as they usually did, a look of pride for the girl in his eyes. 

When the food appeared in front of them, Astoria began to fill her plate eagerly as her sister scowled down at her. “Must you always be such a pig, Tori? Honestly,” she muttered, shaking her head and removing some of the food from Astoria’s plate. 

Astoria gave her an irritable side glance before replacing the food she had taken with more, beginning to eat without paying her sister more mind. 

“You really shouldn’t be eating that much. Mother would not approve of those choices either. Too much fat, and your cheeks are looking a bit chubby,” Daphne scolded before poking a finger at her sister’s pale cheek. 

Astoria swatted her hand away and didn’t pause from her eating, looking unbothered by Daphne’s nagging. “Fine. Don’t listen to me then. See how you end up,” Daphne sniffed, gathering a small assortment of vegetables and healthier options onto her plate.

The loudness of the jeering boys grew and Draco snickered loudly after saying something nasty to some of the Gryffindors and Astoria’s eyes flickered to the ceiling, blinking up at it as they made a fuss.

“Astoria,” Daphne warned her quietly, noticing her expression. “Careful who you roll your eyes at. That could be your husband one day.”

“I didn’t roll my eyes,” Astoria replied, tilting her chin up. “I was only looking up at the ceiling. Besides, he _will_ be my husband one day.” 

“Yes, well. Not with your eye rolling.”

“I didn’t roll my eyes,” Astoria repeated firmly. 

“You did basically the same thing as rolling them,” Daphne argued, shaking her head at her.

“Well they act so stupid,” Astoria grumbled, lowering her voice even more.

“As mother says, better a fool than an intellect when it comes to the man you marry.” 

“Mother says a lot of things.”

“It’s best we listen to her,” Daphne told her sternly. “She’s our mother. She knows best.” 

“No, father knows best. He’s the man. He is responsible for everything we have. Not her. Besides, she’s so dramatic.”

“Don’t disrespect our mother.” Daphne’s voice was irritable and she pinched the back of Astoria’s arm. Astoria glared up at her, moving her arm away. 

“I wasn’t disrespecting her. Don’t touch me,” she huffed. “I’ve been here all of five minutes and you’re already fussing at me.” 

The memory blurred and moved, replacing itself with a new scene. Inside the mansion that resided on the Greengrass Estates sat Astoria in a dimly lit room with her father standing in front of her. “Silence as a talent, my child, is something very often overlooked by most. Controlling yourself into complete silence and stillness is useful, especially when you don’t want anyone to know you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be,” he told her thoughtfully. 

Small Astoria listened attentively as she sat still in her chair in the middle of the room, the candles that lit the space flickering. “Excuse my theatrics, my dear,” he chuckled softly before flicking his wand and drawing an incredibly large enchanted snake out of the crate near Astoria’s chair. “But I couldn’t help myself. The serpent is incredibly useful for what I am to teach you, in my thematic defense.” 

Astoria stared at the creature, her eyes wide with fear as he lifted it near her. She leaned away in her chair, her bottom coming halfway off the edge. “Don’t move, Astoria,” he commanded her, causing her to halt in her retreating. Aldrich watched her expectantly until she straightened back into the middle of the chair, sitting up with her hands folded in her lap as she glanced between him and the snake.

“If you move, if you make a sound, if you breathe: you will get bitten. Do you understand?” He asked her levelly, an eerie kindness in his eyes as he spoke to the young girl about being bitten by a large snake as if it was only a small matter. 

Astoria trembled slightly in her seat, her eyes becoming desperate. “Please don’t put it on me,” she pleaded to him. “Please, father.” 

“Shh, love. It’s quite alright. There is nothing to fear if you follow directions, I assure you,” he told her gently, his voice comforting. “Though you’ll have to stop shaking like that. It will hurt if it bites you.”

This only caused Astoria to become more nervous, tremors rocking her body. She twisted her fingers in her lap, biting her lip as she tried to calm herself down. “I wouldn’t bother with you if I didn’t believe you capable, sweet girl. Otherwise I would have your sister in your place.” 

Astoria nodded slowly at his words as she processed them, then nodded curtly again, almost to herself. She relaxed her body, and soon she was sitting calmly, patient. “There’s my good girl.”

Astoria stiffened, her eyes searching frantically in confusion. “I-I can’t see!” She stuttered, pressing her fingers to her eyes in confusion. 

“You can, but I’ve made you believe you can’t,” he said dismissively, not offering any further explanation. “Forget that now. Focus your senses before I grow impatient and give up on you.” 

Astoria hesitated before lowering her hands slowly back into her lap, fighting to get her uneven breaths under control again. Aldrich hovered the snake over to her, pausing. “Don’t flinch. It’s a terribly bad habit. Your mother does it all the time. Infuriating. You mustn’t give away your fears to your predator.”

Aldrich lowered the snake into her lap, releasing it from it’s magical hold. Astoria was completely frozen, her breath held and her eyes squeezed tightly closed as there was no reason to keep them open in her blindness. The snake was slow as it slid up Astoria’s arm and around her shoulder, but she kept obediently still. 

Until she ran out of breath. 

Her chest moved when she finally sucked in a fearful breath, and the snake lunged at her skin. 

Astoria jumped awake, forcibly shoving Draco out of her head as she sat up, frightened and out of sorts at being shocked awake.

“Lovely man, your father,” he said stiffly, tense at the thought of her memory that had been slightly clouded in the back of her mind. So young she had been, so eager to please her father. 

“I don’t..” She started, frowning as she pushed strands of her hair from her face. “It was a reasonable exercise.” 

“A reasonable exercise,” he repeated, feeling slightly sick at her conditioning. 

“I was only bit once,” Astoria said, lifting her chin. 

“Is that supposed to be a defense for your father’s abusive _exercise_?” 

“It was not abusive,” she replied, her frown deepening. “It was useful.” 

“Ah yes, giving your own small child an impossible task resulting in getting bitten by an incredibly large snake if she should fail the impossible task is not abusive at all,” he sneered, pushing himself off of the bed. 

“It was not impossible. As I said, I only was bitten once. I shouldn’t have failed the first time either. Besides, I chose to be bitten. Not him. He didn’t force the snake to attack me, and he told me what to do in order to prevent being bitten,” she explained, nodding. “He’s far from abusive. He’s very smart, and has taught me a lot of valuable things.”

“Like how to prevent a snake attack? Very useful, indeed you’re right,” he replied dryly, opening his balcony doors. 

“No. How to be quiet. How to be still.”

“Mmm. Right.” Draco left his wife to go into his bathroom, irritated by her words and excuses. 

Theodore sat in his home’s library attempting to distract himself with reading. He was incredibly tired of the Aurors already, and he had a feeling they weren’t going away anytime soon. His father absolutely detested their interrogations, but he was lucky he wasn’t back in Azkaban as it was. The only reason he wasn’t was because of the fact he had turned himself over only minutes before the end of the battle, suspecting the Dark Lord’s defeat at the last moments and offered his assistance on finding the Death Eaters who had run after the end of the war. 

His mind wandered onto the earlier conversation between his parents as he lost focus on the pages of his book.

“It’s completely ridiculous that we have to sit here and be poked and prodded at while others just get to waltz off as if they were not involved with the Dark Lord at all!” Sylvia protested, glaring off at nothing as her eyes weren’t focused.

“Some _weren’t_ involved with the Dark Lord at all, Sylvia,” Joseph said dully. 

“Some married their child to a Death Eater,” his mother muttered bitterly. “Yet they’re no where to be found.”

Joseph looked up at her, giving her a sneering look. “Will you ever stop whining about that family? Please let me know when you do, I’ll have to throw a celebration.” 

“I’m not whining about them,” she quipped, taking a drink from her glass that she had already refilled more than once. “It’s just confusing to me how some families are free to go and live as they please even though the new uprising members could be anyone, as we’ve learned from the recent attacks.”

Theodore wondered why his father had never seemed to make any attempt to help his mother with her drinking problem. If only he’d give her a bit of attention or show a shred of care, maybe she wouldn’t be as bad as she was. She could find a way out. Instead, she only got worse, and Theodore couldn’t help feeling a resentment towards his father for that. It was one matter if he didn’t love her, but he didn’t have to love her to show some mercy by attempting to help her. She was his wife, and he had a responsibility to care for her. He chose not to. 

“Some people make the wrong choices while others make the right ones. Greengrass has a tendency to make all the right choices. There is no point in complaining about unfairness.” 

“Hmm. He will slip somewhere.”

“I’m not as invested in his possible misfortunes as you are, I must confess. I don’t care,” his father drawled, sipping from his own glass.

“Right choices,” Sylvia muttered, shaking her head as she ignored his response. “Everything about them is conveniently right, even from the start of them. Krat wasn’t showing any signs of marrying into that family and yet there she is.” 

“She hated him,” Joseph agreed, humoring his wife slightly. 

“Yes well, you didn’t like me either.” 

“An interesting use of past tense, dear wife.”

Sylvia threw him a withering look, running a hand through her hair. “Their older daughter is engaged to Adrian Pucey,” she stated. 

Joseph looked at her and raised an eyebrow, considering this before snorting. “Of course she is. Rhys has always been perfectly fine with doing that woman favors.” 

“The Puceys aren’t being investigated either,” she grumbled irritably.

“They are now,” Theodore interjected. “That changed when Adrian was at the Manor when Potter and the mudblood girl was there.” Theodore grimaced at the mention of the girl as he spoke of her, filthy thing, calling him _attractive._

“I can’t say I’m at all shocked the idiot got himself into that,” Joseph scoffed, rolling his eyes. “From what I’ve seen him, he’s absolutely useless.”

“He didn’t. Astoria did. She told Potter he ought to be investigating the Puceys as well.”

His mother paused to look at him before she laughed loudly, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. How loyal to her future in-law, she is.” 

“Perhaps you ought to stop meeting there,” his father said, his voice a bit stiff. 

“Astoria? The younger one?” His mother asked him curiously. 

He nodded. “Right before exposing Blaise to Potter. Something that could tarnish him quite horribly should Potter go running his mouth, though I doubt he will. In all fairness, she did threaten Blaise. He chose not to take her seriously,” he said vaguely. His parents wouldn’t out Blaise, but he wouldn’t repeat his knowledge of what Blaise had done anyway. 

“All those times you defended her. You see? She’s a nasty thing, just like her mother,” his mother spat. “Exposing our own to _them_. Completely inappropriate, so _disloyal_.”

“Perhaps you ought to stop meeting there,” his father repeated through his teeth, his eyes dark.

Theodore closed his book, moving on from the thought of his parents conversation and he went to the windows, staring out at his property. His mind drifted again to previous years, to her. 

Theodore stood next to Daphne in their seventh year as she peered worriedly at the gathered Dark Arts class as Carrow conducted it. “They’re making them perform the Cruciatus on the students with detentions.. And if the students in detention can preform it themselves then they will get out of their detentions.” She said worriedly, finding her sister in the crowd. 

“They won’t be able to perform them. Only slightly at most, and it will barely hurt. She’ll be fine, Daphne,” he told her, though he was mostly reassuring himself.

“And what if she can’t! Then Carrow will hurt her!” She exclaimed, worried and frustrated as she pressed her hands against her temples.

“She’s a pure-blood. They are easier on us.”

“A pure-blood whose family denied _him_ ,” she hissed, glaring at Theodore. “You know that. _They_ know that.”

Theodore said nothing, knowing she was correct. 

“Please, stay and make sure she’s okay. I don’t want to watch this, Theo,” she said quietly after a while, emotion thick in her voice.

Theodore allowed her to leave, reluctant to be alone with the scene as he watched Astoria be called to the front, an unsurprising early pick as she was such a well known pure-blood. “Alright, gorgeous,” Carrow sneered, grinning as he examined her body hungrily, causing bile to rise in Theodore’s throat as he watched the disgusting man eye his Astoria in the way he was. “It’s your turn. I think I’ll let our Gryffindor lion have a go first this round. Turn the tables a bit. Sounds fun, no? Feeling brave?” He asked the Gryffindor boy mockingly. 

Theodore’s eyes narrowed slightly as he recognized the boy, thinking back to when he had found Astoria collapsed in the hallway the previous year. Theodore’s breathing became uneven as his anger rose, his eyes fixed on the Gryffindor boy as he looked at Astoria reluctantly. “I can’t very well curse her,” he protested, scowling. “She’s.. A girl. I don’t want to torture girls.” 

Ha, the irony. He didn’t want to torture girls, but would assault them all the same. 

“Just do it, Brandon! What does she matter? She’s one of them. She probably is dying to do it to you!” A girl cried from the group of kids in detention behind him, glaring fiercely at Astoria. He saw Astoria’s face change slightly to a confused look before it hardened, her face becoming determined.

“Yes, she’s probably _dying_ to torture you, _Brandon_ ,” Carrow mocked, watching the boy with a mad glint in his eye, excited to see the small girl tortured. 

The Gryffindor boy lifted his wand after hesitating for a while and Theodore tensed, grinding his teeth together as he was helpless to do anything in the situation at hand. He let out a breath when Astoria didn’t even so much as flinch when the boy muttered the curse, failing to cast it. She was fine.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Here, I’ll show you,” Carrow told him, pointing his wand at Astoria. 

Theodore’s stomach dropped and he took a step forward, a ringing sound entering his ears as Astoria held up her hands, a polite expression on her face. “Professor, may I have a turn first? You said we could leave if we were able to cast one,” she asked him as he was about to curse her.

“I said you could leave if you were able to _hold_ it,” he growled at her, dropping his wand. “Fine, cocky bitch. Five seconds. Go. Oh, and when you can’t cast it I’ll be here to show everyone how it’s done, princess.” 

Astoria nodded thoughtfully before raising her wand calmly, her eyes fixed on the Gryffindor boy. He sighed at her efforts, doubting them as he feared the repercussions of her failure, preparing himself for her punishment. He saw her mouth move over the spell and the whole room cringed and recoiled as the boy’s screams fell over them. He stared at Astoria wildly then at the boy as he fell to the ground, writhing in pain as the seconds ticked by. 

Five seconds. 

He looked at Astoria again whose wrist twisted slightly as she focused, her expression colder than he had ever seen it before. She finally lifted the spell at seven seconds, looking to Carrow expectantly, now stiff.

When she was dismissed from the class as her reward, Theodore caught her, pulling her away from the class after noticing her panicked expression. “You’re alright, Astoria,” he told her, comforting her as he felt her tremble and rubbed her arms worriedly, a tightness in his chest at her distress. 

“He was going to.. I didn’t want to be tortured..” She said, her voice breaking. “I just wanted to leave.”

“I know. You did fine,” he replied gently, nodding. More than fine, horribly fine. Somehow, after watching her for so long, he was less shocked than he should have been.

“That boy,” she went on, her eyes darkening slightly and the coldness that had been in her eyes when she had used the Cruciatus graced her expression again. “He hurt me first.”

“Yes. He did. Don’t feel guilty, love,” he breathed, kissing the top of her head firmly, relieved she wasn’t hurt. 

She looked up at him at him when his lips touched her head, her eyes curious as she watched him for a while before speaking. “I thought you were just showing advancements towards me over a game you boys always play with us,” she said softly, searching his eyes. 

Guilt pinched at him slightly as he thought of his mother’s pressings to seduce the girl in order to sabotage her, and his promises to comply. Perhaps he wasn’t playing with her for the reasons she suspected, but his intentions were still not what she deserved. 

“Come now, Tori. Don’t I deserve more credit than that? I’m a gentleman, no?” He asked her, smirking.

“Why?” She asked him, her searching eyes not lifting from his.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you interested in me, Theo? Why do you care? What do you gain?”

Theodore shook his head, feeling slightly hurt at her expectation that he’d only be after her in order to gain something. 

Wasn’t he?

“I’ve cared since we were children, Astoria,” he told her slowly, sincerely as his emotions filled him, nagging at him.

She closed her eyes for a moment before she leaned forward to wrap her arms around him. “We’re still children, Theo,” she said mournfully before burying her face into his chest. 

His arms came around her slowly, his heart both warmed and aching at her embrace along with her words. He lifted her slightly to lower himself onto the ground, sliding down the wall before he settled her in his lap as he held her, pressing his face into her neat hair. He breathed her in, closing his eyes as he let everything that was happening in their world fall as he focused on the girl in his arms. His Astoria. 

Present Theodore pushed himself away from the window and buried his face in his hands as the next memories of her rolled through his head, tormenting him.

Astoria smiled at him, moving closer to him in his prefect dorm. He had gotten her closer to him as the weeks passed, gaining her trust and desires. He knew she wanted him now, and he knew as soon he kissed her it wouldn’t take him much to get everything that comes after that. He had her where he needed her, and he could have her. 

All of her. 

He could make her love him, devote herself publicly to him, and he could manipulate her into ruining herself for more than just Malfoy; for most of the men in the most traditional families. Which was exactly what his mother had told him to do. He could make her love him, and then he would break her heart, as he would never be able to do right by her.

Theodore pushed his thoughts away as he took her face in his hands gently, stroking his thumb over her cheek slowly. His gaze moved from her brilliant eyes to her pink mouth, full and inviting. He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers slowly to feel her before kissing her softly, cradling her face carefully. She responded shyly, her lips unsure and inexperienced as she began to kiss him back, her mouth gentle and eager to please. 

He moved a hand from her face to find the small of her back, pressing her against him as the other moved forward to hold the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, desperate for more of her. Her hands found his chest timidly and she rested her fingers there lightly as she allowed him more access to her. She gasped softly when his teeth nipped her bottom lip softly and he kissed her again, more roughly than he had intended as a feeling of possession stole his control. 

He had needed this for so long, needed her. He was surprised she was letting him have this much the first time he had kissed her. He had expected a bit more pursuing. At this rate, he could probably take her to bed, which was only right beside them, right at that moment without any protests. The thought egged him on and he gathered her closer, his hand slipping underneath the back of her school sweater, resting against the warm skin there. She shuddered at his fingertips, pressing willingly against him and a low growl escaped his throat.

_Mine_.

She was his, and she would be his. He wouldn’t argue with himself over it any longer. He had to have her. When he broke the kiss to proceed kissing her elsewhere, she looked up at him with big eyes. So innocent, so trusting. 

They shattered him. 

He _couldn’t_ have her. He couldn’t hurt her. Not that, not her. 

He pulled away from her, stumbling back as his feelings attacked him, his own desires screaming at him to ignore reason and morals. He glanced at her again, sorrow filling him at her expression as she looked as if she was wondering what she had done wrong. No, it was him who had done wrong. He had taken advantage of her. He had lied to her about his parents liking her, he had made her feel supported in their most desperate year at Hogwarts, he had made her feel like she was safe with her childhood friend; her only friend. 

It was _wrong_. 

He took her from the room quietly, leading her towards the empty Common Room in silence. He felt her worried eyes on his face, a confused look etched into her features. He thought impulsively, knowing he had to end this before he lost his will to do the right thing, and gripped his wand in his robes.

“I’m sorry, Astoria,” he managed to get out, his voice uneven as he battled himself. “I love you.” 

She tilted her head at him, warmth adding to the confused look on her face. “I love you too, Theodore,” she told him clearly. 

Fuck. 

He closed his eyes, the air feeling heavy and suffocating. The ringing in his ears returned as he pressed his lips to her forehead forcibly as he also raised his wand to her temple. He had to focus, had to ignore all of the screaming in his head so he could perform the spell properly. He couldn’t take more than he intended, he couldn’t fuck up her memories completely.

“Obliviate.” 

 


	23. Chapter 23

 

Draco examined the large, dark Pensieve that currently stood in the center of his sitting room, uniquely tall as opposed to flat as they usually were. The silvery, liquid-like smoke flowed vertically down the stone, pooling at the bottom and seemingly coming back through the top. He examined the base of the Pensieve, smirking at the intricately curled engraving there that read the name Greengrass in large letters.

“What in the bloody fuck..” Blaise breathed, staring at the Pensieve as he entered the room. “Did you.. _nick_ that from Greengrass?” 

Nott grimaced as he came up behind him, eyeing the large magical object. “Are you mental, Malfoy? Do you reckon Aldrich Greengrass fancies being stolen from?” 

“I don’t like this, Draco,” Astoria said quietly, her voice stiff with worry as she stood next to him, twisting her hands together in front of her. “My father would not like this.” 

“You are in control of what belongs in the home while your parents are off, so as it is this Pensieve is yours, and,” Draco stopped to look at her smugly. “What’s yours is mine, my wife.” 

“Perhaps I should have taken my father’s advise and stayed away from here,” Nott muttered, shaking his head in disapproval as he examined it, looking intrigued despite his statement. 

“You’re fucking _joking_ , Malfoy,” Daphne’s loud and accusing voice came from behind them as she seemingly had been in another room waiting for Astoria and Draco while they had gone to retrieve the Pensieve from his wife’s property. “You _stole_ my father’s Pensieve? Are you completely fucking mad?” 

Draco saw Astoria nod slowly at her sister’s question and he narrowed his eyes at her in irritation. He wasn’t about to fear his wife’s father of all people. He wouldn’t do anything to harm his daughter’s family reputation, and the families were meant to be allies now that they were married, especially his wife’s to his.

“No,” he replied smoothly. “I had my wife show me to a piece of her property and I decided to bring it home with me.” 

“You made Astoria betray _daddy_?” Daphne gasped, looking to Astoria. “Oh look at her, she’s absolutely tortured!”

“We can’t let her go back without obliviating her,” Astoria insisted, looking panicked at her older sister, ignoring her comment.

Draco held back a sigh at Astoria’s anxiety. He didn’t want to upset her to this extent, and taking the Pensieve wasn’t a malicious act towards her. He took her arm gently to press his lips close to her ear as she stood incredibly stiff. “We will return it, and everything will be fine. I am only interested in it, nothing else. I’m only borrowing it, Astoria. Besides, he can’t hurt you.”

“I’m not going back,” Daphne said, her voice turning solemn. “Mother is meeting here with the Puceys to get all of the papers signed, and then I’m going off with him to marry him.”

Draco rolled his eyes to the ceiling, irritated at the idea of more company. Why was it the Manor was always a social shelter of sorts? 

“Congratulations, Daphne,” Blaise offered mockingly, dropping into a chair. “Your mother is coming? Lovely.”

Astoria’s face lifted slightly, now distracted from her stress by her sister’s words. “Really?”

Daphne sneered at her, tossing her hair back as she examined her with disdain. “Yes. You got what you wanted, Tori. Again.” 

Astoria frowned. “I’m only happy that you’ll be around more. I miss you..” 

Pucey walked into the room, his eyes lighting up and a slow grin spread across his face as he took in the sight of the Pensieve. “Absolutely fucking _brilliant_ ,” he hissed excitedly, looking ecstatic. 

Daphne looked at Draco then back at the large magical object, shaking her head. “I wonder what else you plan to steal from our family,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “You have to hide this before my mother gets here, Malfoy.” 

Astoria nodded, looking frantic as she went to it to do it herself when Draco didn’t move. Nott stood near her to help her cast the Disillusionment Charm as she moved it to the corner of the room with her wand. 

“Aw, but we haven’t had any fun with it yet,” Pucey tsked. “I suppose I’ll have to come over more often, Draco.” 

“Perfect,” Draco replied dully, watching Nott help his wife with irritation. 

“Where is the collection of bottled, damning memories?”

Daphne scoffed, straightening her dress as she gave Pucey an unamused look. “You can’t possible take those silly rumors seriously. Really, how dramatic.” 

Draco watched them before turning to Astoria. “Yes, love. Where are they?”

“I don’t know, Draco,” Astoria said quietly, not looking at him. 

“Astoria,” Daphne said oddly, furrowing her brow. “Don’t validate the tale.”

Astoria’s eyes flickered to her sister, her expression unchanging. 

“Where, Astoria?” He asked again, his voice pressing. He fully believed something of the sort must exist now from his new familiarity with Aldrich. 

“I don’t know, Draco,” Astoria repeated, seemingly struggling to keep her voice level.

Draco left it, accepting her words as honesty. He didn’t want to push her discomfort, as she had done nothing to deserve the extra stress, and Draco felt guilty for causing it. 

Not guilty enough. 

“We’ll have to find them,” Pucey said firmly before he turned to examine Daphne, squinting at her. “You still look terribly thin, I’m afraid. It seems my home will have to be rehabilitation center for you, love.” 

Daphne glared at him, moving to further the distance between them. “Do try not to talk to me too much. I’m trying not to fully comprehend what is happening.” 

Daphne’s attitude had certainly gotten worse over the years, but he hadn’t remembered her being this impolite. She had certainly changed from the third year in Astoria’s first Hogwarts memory. She was rather lucky she was to marry Adrian. He was far more patient than most men would be. 

“Daphne,” Astoria frowned. “He’s your fiancé.” 

“Yeah, Daphne. I’m your fiancé,” Pucey said, holding his arms out in an incredulous gesture. “Be nice to me. I mean fuck, at least let me down gently. I might shed a tear.” 

Daphne stared him down still, looking unimpressed, and Draco heard the house-elf inviting Rhys Pucey in who strolled in the room slowly, glancing around. “I forgot how dreary it is in here, Mr. Malfoy,” he commented, squinting at the decor. “Ever feel like lightening the place up a bit?” 

“Not particularly,” Draco said, his tone bored as he examined Adrian’s similarly looking father. 

“I believe it’s a completely appropriate tone for the mood, father. Seeing as it’s my dick’s funeral.” 

Daphne dropped the disdain on her face when Rhys entered, a neutral expression replacing the previous. “Hello, Mr. Pucey. It is nice to see you,” she told him politely, nodding. 

“You’re a fake bitch,” Adrian snorted, rolling his eyes. “And horridly boring. This is why we don’t mix with the ancients.” 

“Now now, no need to call your lovely fiancé names, Adrian. Tell me, where is that woman?” Rhys said, looking around for presumably Astoria’s mother. “I’m late because I knew she would be, yet apparently I’m not late enough.” 

“She must sense your lateness and adjusted her arrival time in order to be the last to here,” Daphne said, a humor in her tone as she tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“I wouldn’t doubt it at all.” 

“It’s so lovely to hear you not be a complete bitch for five seconds, wow. Keep it up and maybe this won’t be as tragic as I so thought,” Adrian commented, examining Daphne who gave him a cold look. “You’re quite attractive when you don’t have a hateful expression on your face.”

Astoria was beside him, seemingly completely distracted and worried by what was hidden in the corner of the room, and Draco wanted to shake her. Her tenseness made _him_ tense.

There was a sound of Apparition and Joseph Nott stood in the middle of them all, holding a newspaper. His face was unamused, as it usually was, and tired looking. Azkaban hadn’t done well on him either, though he certainly handled it better than his own father had. Joseph dropped the paper onto the table in the room, glancing around at them. “There’s been another attack.” 

A collection of curses sounded in the room and Draco picked up the paper, scanning the headline, slightly nervous. Four mudblood families targeted this time. The Larsen family. He barely knew much of them, and that was telling enough to what was going on.

Draco shook his head, tossing the paper aside and Blaise picked it up, scowling at the information there. “Well, the pattern is becoming apparent, isn’t it?” Another family that had nothing to do with the first and second wars.

“Joseph,” Rhys greeted cheerfully, not seeming interested in the news. “So good to see you, mate.” 

Joseph nodded to Rhys, a slightly warmer look than usual in his eyes as he greeted his old friend. “Pucey. Odd I don’t recall ever seen you at the Malfoys.”

“I avoid it. However, my dear son finally gets the privilege to marry, and Freya refused to meet at my own home.”

Joseph’s eyes flickered at the mention of the woman and he turned his attention to his son, narrowing his eyes at him in communication. 

“So lucky I am that people are so fond of using my home as a sort of common grounds,” Draco drawled, pulling Astoria down to sit beside him.

Freya Greengrass waltzed into the room, her heels clacking obnoxiously against the floors, papers in her hands. She paused when she spotted Joseph, a wild glint flashing in her eyes before she smiled brilliantly, joining the rest of them. 

“My, it’s like a reunion isn’t it? How are you, darling? So good to see you, it’s been _ages_ since I’ve seen you outside of all the nonsense and without the sloppy drunk attached to your side,” she breezed through the words, beaming mockingly at Joseph.

Joseph said nothing in reply, not even looking at her, and turned to Draco, Blaise, and Theodore to speak about the Larsen family, grouping them off.

“Ah, yes I heard about that. Very interesting, obvious they are under the control of something greater as the Larsens are far too insignificant to go out of their way and do something like this,” Freya quipped, adding herself to the conversation while handing Rhys the papers. “I won’t be going with you when you two are magically bound, Daphne. I hope you aren’t too torn up about it.” 

“Simply heartbroken,” Daphne muttered. 

“Watch the sarcasm, darling. I’m your mother if you recall correctly. Attitude is horribly unappealing.” 

“Oh? And what’s the excuse for yours, Freya?” Rhys asked, raising a brow at her. 

Freya smirked at him, raising an eyebrow back. “It suits me better.” 

Astoria’s eyelids fluttered as she fought to roll her eyes at her mother, looking to Joseph to pay attention to him instead, who Draco was not. 

“Astoria, make yourself useful and get us drinks while you’re over there being rude.”

Astoria complied to her mother’s order and Draco assessed the dynamics between the women. It was obvious Astoria held much less regard for her mother than her father, and the girls didn’t seem close with the woman as their mother at all. 

“I have to say I’m not torn up by the fact your obnoxious wife isn’t here, Rhys,” Freya sniffed, taking her time on the paperwork.

“Exactly why she stayed home, love,” Rhys replied smoothly.

“That’s unfortunate. My mother likes you quite a bit, Mrs. Greengrass,” Adrian said, grimacing at the papers she handed him. 

Freya blinked slowly, her expression not impressed in the slightest. “Is that supposed to mean something to me? I can assure you, the fact does not change my dislike for her in the slightest.” 

Adrian widened his eyes in aversion, tilting his head considerably as he turned away from the exchange. 

“Apparently you haven’t met Freya enough, son,” Rhys said, looking amused and unbothered by the woman’s rudeness, surely very familiar with it. 

“Well, he was just complaining about me being fake and now he’s taken off by honesty,” Daphne scoffed. “Obviously he doesn’t know what he wants.”

“Daphne fake? Oh, handsome boy. Astoria is much worse in that aspect. Daphne isn’t quite as talented,” Freya said, taking the drink from Astoria who went to give one to Joseph as well. “Consider yourself lucky. You’d simply go mad with Astoria, she’s unbearable.”

“You do realize you’re giving me a reluctant, anorexic bride, don’t you?” Adrian asked dully to Freya, who turned to look him up and down before replying. 

“She does look a bit hollow doesn’t she?” Freya inquired, looking uninterested in the topic. “Oh well. She fluctuates, no worries.” 

Daphne scowled, covering herself self-consciously with her arms as all three of them looked at her body at once. “I’m not anorexic,” she murmured, looking away from them. “I’m not.” 

Draco pulled his attentions back to the conversation about the recent attacks while the Pucey men and the Greengrass women sorted through the marriage details, decidedly not having a wedding which was not surprising given the rushed arrangement and the fact of how low the Greengrass family was laying. Draco was grateful he hadn’t had to have a wedding either, the thought itself was leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

“Joseph,” Freya announced after a while, making her way over to where the group of them sat. “I must say: you look like complete shit. Did Azkaban not treat you well?” 

Joseph didn’t move his eyes toward Freya, still not responding to her in any way. 

“Oh, excuse me, boys. That was quite rude. I’m sure you won’t tattle on me, will you?” 

“I might have to after your child set the Aurors on us,” Rhys snorted, coming to join them as well. 

“Yes, so I was told that happened,” Freya mused, eyeing her offending daughter with amusement. 

Astoria sighed, looking at Rhys apologetically. “I’m sorry, Mr. Pucey. Adrian was telling us that he would be leaving again, and that would ruin the plans for the marriage between him and my sister. Please, I meant no ill will towards your family, I assure you.”

“Oh, Mr. Pucey, she’s _sorry_ ,” Freya cooed to Rhys sadly, snorting at the end of it. 

His mouth twitched with amusement at Astoria, nodding. “It’s alright. You’ve done a better job of holding my son down than we’ve been able to.” 

“Still. Very disloyal of you, Astoria,” Freya scolded. “These are to be your in-laws.” 

Joseph scoffed loudly at that. “I’m sure _you_ give them great lessons on loyalty, Freya.” Joseph stilled at his own statement, his eyelids lowering in realization of what he’d done. 

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room as Freya dropped her glass, her eyes flashing with triumph as a smug grin covered her face. “What was that, Nott?” She asked him, walking towards him slowly, almost predatory like. “Did you just _address_ me? Wow, it has been a while hasn’t it? How many years have passed? Oh, I’ve _missed_ you, darling!” 

Ah, did the woman have a talent for drama.

Joseph stared up at the ceiling looking incredibly irritated as the woman approached him, and Theodore watched the both of them looking both amused and uncomfortable. 

“Now, now. You’ve already spoken to me and ruined your record setting silent treatment. It’s too late now, my love. I have to say: it’s a wonder. We _must_ catch up. What was that you were saying? Right, loyalty. Ah, yes. You find me disloyal.” Freya’s words ended in a pout and she looked at him sadly, nodding mockingly. “Poor innocent Joseph. Pitiful what I did to you. Someone ought to slap me with a splintered paddle, no?” 

Draco watched them, newly intrigued. Joseph Nott was an incredibly intimidating man, and Draco made an effort to keep civil with him. It was bizarre to see the bold woman taunting him as if he wasn’t an incredibly dark wizard who had spent a considerable amount of time in prison. 

Joseph finally met her eyes, his expression cold. “Are you finished?” He asked her slowly.

“Far from it!” Freya exclaimed while taking his drink from him and taking a sip herself, and Draco heard Blaise laugh in disbelief. “Come now, it’s been so long since I’ve had a good chat with my _best friend_.” 

Rhys watched the two of them, pulling his lips back over his teeth, expressing the awkwardness of the scene and Astoria shifted beside Draco, looking confused and uncomfortable as she watched her mother.

“Not long enough, love,” Joseph said softly, growing more visibly angry and tense. 

Freya tsked. “You’re so mad at me,” she expressed, her voice sorrowful. “I feel even the onlookers in this room fear my safety.” Freya turned to the boys, her face changing to something sly. “Don’t worry, boys. He isn’t going to do shit to me, that I can guarantee.”

Joseph laughed coldly, shaking his head in aggravation before Freya plucked at his suit, examining it. “Alright, perhaps you don’t look _that_ horrible. Forgive me if I hurt your self esteem. Oh, and congratulations. You’ve really picked yourself and your family name up in recent years, haven’t you? Maybe we should have married Daphne to _your_ son,” she said thoughtfully before snorting with laughter at the thought. “Ah, I’m still quite hilarious aren’t I?” 

“Unfortunately, it isn’t Daphne who Nott is after as he has made advances toward my wife one time too many,” Draco drawled, cutting into the exchange, watching Astoria frown beside him. 

Freya paused, her eyes landing on Theodore as she regarded him stiffly, her mocking expression now fallen. She moved her eyes to Joseph, her head tilting at him. “Aiming below the belt are we?” She asked him curiously, an underlying chilled tone in her voice. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You don’t know what I’m talking about,” Freya repeated, laughing slightly. “I see. I wasn’t aware that our children were fair game to be targeted in the issues we have with each other.” 

“I would never do that,” Joseph told her harshly, his eyes offended. 

An unidentifiable emotion crossed her expression and Freya searched his eyes for several moments before smiling without humor. “And when have you told me that before?” 

“Mrs. Greengrass. I can assure you there is no negative intention besides an attempt to irritate Malfoy,” Theodore said, looking uncomfortable and nervous at his father. 

The woman regarded Thedore coolly. “Do you believe me quite stupid?” She asked him, false amusement in her voice before it was icy. “Because I can assure you: I’m not.” 

She walked away from Joseph, gathering the paperwork and handing it to Daphne before kissing her girls goodbye silently. 

“Freya,” Joseph growled in protest before she left, the sound of the door slamming loud in the Manor.

 


	24. Chapter 24

 

“Are you not giving me my own bedroom?” Daphne asked her new husband, scowling as she looked around the bedroom he had led her to, his own. 

“Now why would I do that? You’re my wife,” he replied, stripping himself of his jacket and tossing it on a chair in the corner carelessly. 

Daphne studied his broad, well worked chest that spread up into even better, strong shoulders. She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to not bite her lip at her attraction to him. Shit, she couldn’t deny how gorgeous he was, and she was traditionally girlish when it came to attractive men. He was a contrast to the men she had grown up closer to knowing who were attractive in a darker, more looming way. Adrian’s debonair was much more on the lighter side of their aristocratic world and oozed sex appeal and a more playful charm. 

“Well, don’t you want your space?” 

“I’ve married you. I might as well get used to having less space, lovely.”

“But.. Why? This mansion is huge. There is nothing keeping you from continuing on with your life and pretending as if I don’t exist,” Daphne muttered, reaching over to hold onto her arm as she looked around the room, overwhelmed at how quickly her settings had changed. 

“Right, but then I’d feel absolute shit,” Adrian said, grimacing. “Would be miserable for you if I just left you to yourself, wouldn’t it?” 

“I don’t see why you care,” Daphne told him, confused. 

“Fuck, are you always this depressing? Yeah, I care if my wife jumps off the balcony in result of years of loneliness and neglect,” he snorted, shaking his head incredulously while scowling. “As long as I’ve known your lot, it’s still a bit shocking how you think.”

“How sweet of you,” she said dryly, moving to sit on his bed, the scent of rich cologne filling her nose.

“I’m very sweet, thank you for noticing! Now, let’s get you some food, shall we?” 

“I’m not hungry.”

“Shhh. Quiet, sweetheart. Don’t fight it. We’ll eat some food and talk about our feelings. It will be great.” Adrian rang a small bell and a cleanly dressed servant entered the room, taking Adrian’s food order.

“Why not just get a house-elf..?” Daphne asked, squinting at the retrieving servant. 

“Ugly little things. Spoil the look we are going for,” he said, waving a hand. “I’m so sorry. I’d take you out on a honeymoon, but your sister has got us chained down.” 

“Yes, well. She often gets what she wants.” 

He squinted at her, adjusting his sleeves. “And how do you _feel_ about that, lovely?” 

Daphne was quiet for a moment, thinking his question over. She hadn’t really been asked that before and it had caught her off guard, despite his less than serious tone. “I.. Don’t know. I can’t tell if I’d rather be in her place. It just seems like she’s so much more sure of herself than I am, even though she never had friends or much of any life at all. She’s just.. A puppet. Almost lifeless. But then why is she so much more held together than I am?” 

Adrian paused and looked up at her. “So.. You’re actually telling me how you feel,” he said slowly, frowning in consideration. “Alright.” 

She shook her head. “Right. Nevermind,” she said quietly, annoyed at herself for actually responding to his sarcastic question. 

“No no, it’s good,” he said, waving his hand in a motion that indicated her to keep going as he moved to sit next to her. “Tell me how you feel, my dear.” 

Daphne glared at him, scooting away. “No. Forget I said anything.” 

“Aw, come on, baby. I’m your husband now. Plus, it will make sex easier if we get along. I don’t know, reluctant sex has never really turned me on. Just something about it being.. Rape. Eh. Doesn’t do it for me. Neither does crying. Never been interested in screwing a crying woman.” 

Daphne made a disgusted noise and pushed even further away from him, pressing up against his pillows. Adrian squinted at her for a while before taking the food from the servant and pushing it towards her. “Eat. Really. You said you weren’t anorexic so prove it.”

She looked at the food and wrinkled her noise, turning her face away from the incredibly intoxicating smell. She was definitely very hungry. “It doesn’t make someone anorexic to not want to eat things that are so fattening. Nothing about that is healthy.”

“Who cares? Eat because it tastes good. It’s almost like you can.. Not be completely miserable all the time, hope you know.” 

Daphne didn’t move.

“Aren’t you trained in your little bred-to-be-wives classes to do as I say, or?” He asked, pursing his lips. 

“I’ve also been “trained” not to eat food like that,” she quipped, pushing her nose away further.

“Look. I won’t force you to eat. Probably won’t force you to do anything really, but honestly, who are you trying to keep so thin for? Nobody here cares if you eat some food, Daphne. Nobody here cares if they can’t count every rib in your body. Actually, it’s a bit sad, and makes me feel terrible that someone actually made you feel you should look that way. Especially now that you’re my wife,” he told her clearly, his voice changing to a more serious tone. 

Daphne faltered, her stiff shoulders relaxing slightly, caught off guard by his words again. “You didn’t want to marry me.” 

“No, I didn’t want to get married period. As for you specifically: I have nothing to complain about. You’re fucking gorgeous, don’t have much to complain about there. You’re a bit bitchy, and you have a stick up your arse, but eh. We’ll get it out.” 

She turned to narrow her eyes at him at the last bit, but could feel herself softening after he complimented her. 

“No, I didn’t want to get married,” he repeated. “But I’m not going to punish you for it. You didn’t want to get married either. Actually, you didn’t want to marry me specifically. So I should be the one pouting.” 

Daphne watched him quietly, searching his eyes to find the sincerity there. He had nice eyes, hazel. They went very well with his dark features. Daphne picked up the plate after a while of hesitating and began to eat the yorkshire puddings on it, closing her eyes to enjoy them. She had intended only to humor him, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to stop. 

Adrian clapped his hands together. “That’s a girl. That barely took any convincing! You aren’t as hardheaded as I had originally thought. Now, let’s go back to where you were telling me about your feelings.” 

“Do you want me to eat or do you want me to talk?” She huffed, scowling up at him as she cut into another piece. 

“Well, there is this particularly useful talent. It’s called multitasking, dunno if you’ve heard of it, but it’s rather life changing once you’ve gotten the hang of it.”

Oh, how she wanted to stab him with her fork. 

“Why not tell me _your_ feelings while I try to enjoy myself.”

Adrian smirked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Oh yeah? So you _are_ enjoying yourself? Man, I’m already a fantastic husband. Hmm.. Feelings. Yeah, can’t think of much to say about that. My parents are fine, my upbringing was fine. Didn’t have an uncle that touched my dick as a kid or anything dark like that.” 

Daphne’s hold on her fork tightened at the last comment but she didn’t change her expression. “Your side of the pure-blood world isn’t as stiff as ours,” she offered him, nodding. 

“Absolutely not,” he snorted. “Whenever I have to attend _your_ type of events I feel my soul die a bit, actually. As much as I complain about my parents’ expectations, they dull a bit in comparison. You’re lucky I rescued you, though our events get old after a while too.” 

“I thought all you did was party, Pucey.” 

“You can’t call me Pucey. _You’re_ a Pucey, my treacle.” Adrian grinned at her, his teeth ridiculously perfect in a way that annoyed her. “Yes and no. I like traveling to _different_ parties, explore other parts of the world.” 

“There can’t be _too_ many to experience, seeing as the pure-blood world is growing smaller and smaller,” she muttered, already halfway through the food that was on her plate. 

“I never said anything about only attending purely pure-blood parties.”

Daphne glanced up at him before shaking her head, wondering how she was ever married to him, quality name or not. 

“Come now, darling. It’s a big world out there! I enjoy experiencing it.” 

“It seems you’ve only gotten more annoying since Hogwarts.” 

“I’d say I’ve only grown more charming since Hogwarts actually.” 

“She wasn’t always like that,” she said, changing the subject back to a previous. 

“What?” 

“Astoria. She wasn’t always like that.”

“Ah. We are going back to the feelings. Could have connected that a bit better, but that’s alright I’ve caught on well enough. Go on.” 

“It was unsettling.. Like a switch. She was this bratty thing. Well, I’d still say she’s a brat, but not the same kind of brat. She was wild, and would always pull her hair down, mess up her clothes, not sit still in classes. Then.. It was just different. She turned off when-“ Daphne broke off, swallowing her words. 

“That was a rather odd end of a statement. You’ll have to explain that last bit better, dove. Can’t read women that well. Not a Legilimens either.”

“When Edric left,” she finished quietly, clearing her throat. The name felt weird slipping past her lips, she couldn’t remember the last time she said it. They didn’t talk about him, it. 

Shouldn’t talk about it. 

“The disowned one,” Adrian confirmed. 

Daphne’s eyebrows came together, surprised he recognized the name, especially being from a family that was less close to hers than others. “You’d be shocked to know I actually pay more attention to these things than most men my age. Quite scandalous some tales are.” 

“Yes, well. We shouldn’t talk about it.”

“When was the last time you did?” 

“Never,” she said firmly, fighting the sadness that was creeping up on her. 

“Seems like you ought to let it out then, dove. He _was_ your brother. I’m an only child, so I don’t know how all that sibling bond shit feels, but I imagine it’s fucked to lose a brother,” he told her, studying her carefully.

Daphne pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth as emotion caught in her throat, struggling to keep her composure. “Yes it’s.. Fucked to lose a brother, Adrian,” she replied quietly. 

She felt her chest tighten and she shifted uncomfortably where she sat. This topic sent alarm bells off in her mind, warning her to go back to her usual thoughts, the ones she was comfortable with. 

The ones that didn’t make her feel.

Adrian waited while watching her patiently, expectantly. She was surprised she had gone this far, but no one had ever prodded at her like this before, and he didn’t seem to have ill intent. He was infuriating, but she didn’t remember him ever being _cruel_ , and he was different then the other ones. Much different than the man her sister had married, and much different than the man Daphne _would_ have married had she been up to par, she was sure.

“Do you miss him?” He asked when she didn’t go on. 

“I miss everyone,” she said finally after a few moments, her voice breaking which made her lower her head more to hide her face, staring at her plate. “Everything was so different before that happened. Everything changed in an instant.”

Adrian moved her plate away, causing her to take note of its emptiness, and moved closer to her, pulling her so she was in a more comfortable place on the bed closer to him. She stared down, feeling the words and explanations bubbling in her throat. She wanted to talk to him, share her thoughts; the thoughts she had never offered to anyone as she had never been asked. She shouldn’t, she wouldn’t. 

Actually, she would.

“I wasn’t there to know what happened. We were at a gathering, a gathering near a muggle populated area. I can’t remember what it was exactly now, but I remember finding my family gone eventually, and I ended up being taken back to the Parkinson’s to stay there for the night. I got home the next day and he was gone, and the whole house felt off. I could tell something was wrong. My mother told me he’d been disowned, as bluntly as she tells anyone anything, and that I was never to mention him again, and then she just walked away from me. Left me in the room alone. I was so shocked.. It came out of no where, my brother was such a good son. He was a proper heir. It was one of those moments where everything kind of slips away and your senses are dulled. It wouldn’t sink in completely at first. I went to Astoria and she was.. A mess, but also eerily put together. She was never put together, especially in the privacy of our home where my mother didn’t bother fussing with her. She was so tired looking, and her face was just.. She had look haunted. She wasn’t very responsive, and she wasn’t crying or acting in any way I was used to her acting. I was crying, I was so upset. We were so close to our brother, especially Astoria. I was crying a lot when I went to her. She wouldn’t face me the whole time I was trying to get her to talk to me until finally she turned around and told me that we weren’t to cry over blood traitors in the most terrible tone I had ever heard her use. It was incredibly harsh for an eight year old. I stopped crying in surprise, she had never spoken to me that way, and she left me in the room alone like my mother had. I had never felt more alone than at that moment, it was as if I had lost everyone all at once. Then.. life went on. It was as if he never existed. Except at the same time it didn’t, because _everything_ was different,” Daphne stopped as her formerly calm voice began to waver, and she wouldn’t look at Adrian to see his reaction. “Everything was different. My mother is quite cut off and always has been, yes, but she used to have much softer moments. She’d have.. Motherly moments. Not after Edric left. Astoria was completely different, as I said. Once she stopped being a shaky resemblance of a corpse she just became this quiet, overly obedient child that only cared about all of the things our parents nag at us to care about. She began to truly rival me, and it wasn’t long before _she_ was the proper daughter, and I was the one that fell behind. I was an afterthought, as I remain now. Still, I kept trying to keep that older sister role, scolding her and lecturing her though we both knew she was the one who ought to have done that to me. She was father’s favorite. I resented her much more when I was younger for that. Mother didn’t have a favorite, as it’s hard to see who she cares for. She loved him though, Edric. She definitely loved him, and how she told me.. That he was gone. It was just so cold and uncaring, as if she wasn’t talking about losing her only son. Her son..” 

She was crying now, all of her old emotions and insecurities catching up to her, sinking into her heart and digging their claws into it. This was a very bad idea. She didn’t know how to handle all of this. She saw Adrian rub a hand over his face, his eyes mournful and serious, sympathetic. He reached out and put a hand on her back gently, urging her forward. She trembled while she hesitated for a moment before giving into him and moving into his arms that he offered her. He pulled her against him so she was mostly in his lap as he wrapped his sure arms around her firmly, quiet. She was stiff for quite awhile before she relaxed against him, allowing herself to sob against his shoulder, effectively ruining his shirt. 

She should be embarrassed, she should definitely embarrassed. She also should be horrified at herself for telling him all that she did, for bothering him with nonsense she shouldn’t be mentioning in the first place. 

Oddly, she wasn’t any of it. She felt.. So relieved. So relieved to have said everything out loud. 

So relieved to have been _listened_ to. 

He had listened to her, and he had cared. She had seen that he cared, and he hadn’t mocked her. She had always been mocked for complaining about her sister, probably rightly so as she was quite whiny, but he hadn’t. Plus, he was warm. Very, very warm. She felt good in his arms, and she didn’t feel judged. 

She didn’t feel insecure. 

She was completely confused how this man she barely knew could make her feel better than she had in so long in only hours of being around him. Men weren’t supposed to act like this, this wasn’t a husband and wife situation in their world. She had never prepared herself for a situation like this, but it was so much less horrible than it could have been.

“You won’t be an afterthought to me, Daphne.” His deep and sincere voice vibrated in his chest, low and honest, and his words relaxed her to her core.

She felt terrible for complaining about him now, terrible for acting like such an idiot about it, as well as bitter that her mother had been right, as she always was. She knew she was being a spoiled idiot the whole time she was making a scene of it, but she was just prideful in that her sister had something to do with her marriage along with the fact a family like the Puceys would never have been considered for perfect Astoria just on the fact her father did not view them in the same respect, as many of the families she had grown up closer to didn’t. 

“I don’t even know what he did. I mean, I have my guesses, but I never asked. Of course no one ever told me,” she said softly, calm now. Wrong, she had asked Astoria when she was crying and begging for her to respond to her, but she hadn’t offered an explanation.

“Would you like to know?” He asked, his voice thoughtful. 

Daphne considered this, sitting up to wipe her eyes and to look up at him as she sniffled. She was sure she looked absolutely ridiculous and had mascara all over her reddened cheeks, and her eyes probably looked madly green as they always did when the whites of her eyes were tarnished.

A right mess she was, blubbering into a man’s shoulder. 

What would her mother say? 

“Okay,” she said weakly, not sure if she wanted to know. It would make his betrayal real. She had to know though, she couldn’t go her whole life without knowing. There were a lot of things she didn’t know about her own family, and she was tired of being out of the loop. 

Though, she wasn’t sure the loop was somewhere she wanted to be either.

“I have to say it wasn’t really talked about as it usually is when someone is disowned like that, especially from a family such as yours, so congratulations on having a thoroughly terrifying father,” he started, and the corners of Daphne’s lips came up in amusement. 

Ah, yes. Terrifying he was, indeed.

“I met her though; the Muggle-born girl your brother married. She’s a psychologist, a bit ironic really, considering. She had the Greengrass name. It was _quite_ obvious she didn’t resemble any woman who would be married to a Greengrass or anyone of status. I know there are other Greengrass members out there, but she was _working_ for fuck’s sake. I know I’d definitely never catch you working. She was reluctant to tell me the name of the man she was married to, but I got it out of her, as I get a lot of things out of people. It’s a talent of mine.” 

Daphne’s face twisted in disgust as revulsion climbed up her throat. She had known it would be something terrible, obviously as her father’s only son would not be disowned for anything small, but hearing out loud was not something she was properly prepared for. “A _mudblood_ is openly sporting the _Greengrass_ name?” She demanded, spitting the words in disgust. 

She couldn’t believe Edric. He had always been well behaved and up to father’s standards. He had never shown any signs of giving the family name away to some unworthy girl, to allow himself disowned from such an important family.

“Unfortunately so, love.” 

Daphne scoffed in disbelief. “She did nothing to earn that, she doesn’t _deserve_ our name.” 

“Your old name,” Adrian corrected. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you time to adjust, but just a reminder. Your name is Pucey now, you’ll get used to it. Anyway, some might say she might have had to have been something pretty special. It’s much more common for women of our world to be stolen by the outside, but to take an _heir_ and have him give up everything for her? That’s pretty significant.” 

“Give up everything for her,” Daphne repeated, a cold chill covering her and her eyes became unfocused. “Give up everything and ruin our family, ruin my sister, my mother. Me. For her. Yes, she must be something _pretty fucking special_.” 

It was his fault, his fault that they had been broken.

“Your resentment is understandable,” he said, nodding and smoothing her hair gently. “I’m surprised you’re staying as calm as you are actually. Not bad. Your temper is average.”

She laughed shortly. “Perhaps you should direct me to this girl,” she said slowly, her voice emotionless. 

“Now, now. Let’s not go that far. We have Aurors on our tails right now, forget that? We can’t set them us by harming any Muggle-borns, can we? No, that would be a horrible idea. I don’t fancy prison, and I’m sure you don’t either. You’re much to pretty for that. Besides, I don’t approve of that level of violence. I’ll have to control you in that way, apologies,” he said, his voice scolding. 

Daphne let out a long breath and closed her eyes, calming her anger. It was over, he was over. He was nothing now, no one to concern herself with, as he was her brother no longer. She would never see him again, and could go back to pretending he didn’t exist. She may have missed him, but it was obvious they were not worth enough to him.

 


	25. Chapter 25

"That hurts," Astoria told Draco softly, wincing at his savage attempts to unlock the memories hidden in her mind. It was giving her an incredible headache, as well as making her feel a bit dizzy.

Draco stopped at her words and watched her for a moment before nodding. "Alright. We can stop for now. They should come apart soon, and they may come undone randomly on their own. Tell me if they do, don't keep whatever it is from me."

"I don't wish to keep things from you, Draco," she replied, frowning. "You're my husband."

"Mmm. That I am." Draco pulled her closer to him in his bed, brushing his mouth against hers carefully, feeling her.

Astoria closed her eyes and was still for him, her head still throbbing just slightly enough to bother her. It was a familiar feeling; her head hurting like this. Her mind was constantly being dissected and tampered with, and sometimes it was uncomfortable in more ways than just mentally. She didn't mind too much what Draco saw, however, though she was sure her protectiveness over her memories was much less fierce than the average woman who wasn't used to being exposed. He didn't go near the memories she had asked him not to, the ones she had buried so deeply, and that was enough for her.

However, the fact that he had made her lead him to her father's Pensieve was another matter entirely. She wasn't sure why he wanted it, perhaps it was just to show he could, as he seemed to have a strong distaste for her father. He had asked her about the memories, but she truly didn't know where they were. She _did_ know that Pensieve was unusual, and that it worked in ways she didn't understand herself. It made her incredibly anxious to know it was down in that sitting room, exposed and not in its rightful place in her family's home. He _did_ seem interested in memories, and interested in other people as well, though he seemed to not want to admit it in order to not seem like he cared about anything but his own current matters.

Draco's calculated touches brought her attention back to the sensations he was leaving against her skin. When he was intimate with her in this way it was almost as if he was studying her, making a mental note of every curve, every different texture on her form. She expected a man to be sloppy and his hands feel grabby; like that boy that had touched her years ago in the halls at Hogwarts. That's how most men seemed to be with the women they were with from the public displays of affection she had witnessed over the years, at least most of them.

Draco made her feel unfocused, clouded when he would touch her. He made her feel beautiful in just the way he studied her and caressed her as if she were a treasure, a piece of art to appreciate every detail of. Her body hummed as his fingers grazed from her bare shoulder and down her arm, his hand taking hers and flipping her wrist up to trace the blue veins there, bright against her pale skin. She watched his eyes, focused and intent on what they were doing. He looked at her the same way he looked at his little puzzle toys he often played with at night.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked him, her voice soft.

"Nothing. At least that's what I'm attempting."

Ah, yes. That's why he focused so closely and details. Distractions. She was his distraction from whatever demons he was avoiding. She didn't mind, she liked the attention.

She reached up slowly to touch his face, his eyes moving from her skin to her eyes when she made the contact. She studied his eyes, admiring the color. They suited him perfectly.

She wanted to think of something to ask him, but as he said he was trying not to think, so she didn't say anything. Instead she moved her hand to rest lightly on his side near his hip, closing her eyes again, listening to his quiet breathing. She almost thought him asleep again when his lips claimed hers, his hand moving from the side of her ribcage to push into the back of her hair, his fingers curling into it slowly. Her lips parted as she accepted his kiss, her hand on his side sliding up his back when he dragged her forward to fit her body against his. She enjoyed his kiss while she could, as he usually took the liberty of breaking from her as soon as she really got into what they were doing. She was sure at this point that he was purposely winding her up, as it seemed he liked to see her react to him in different ways. She couldn't complain entirely, there was something alluring and electric about the way he built the sexual tension, but she was growing frustrated with it.

Didn't he _want_ her?

Men weren't supposed to be so in control. They shouldn't be able to tease their wives this way, sex was meant to be something that _they_ always wanted, and Draco had always been prancing off with women at Hogwarts.

When Draco broke the kiss much quicker than she had desired she felt her face drop into a flat, unamused expression. She blinked when his body shook against her as he laughed. _Laughing_ at her now, was he?

"Why are you laughing at me?" She asked him, forcing her voice not to come out as a pouty whine.

"Your frustrations amuse me, love."

"I don't understand this game. Are you punishing me for something?"

"What, refraining from snogging you all day when we have to get up is a punishment in your eyes?"

"You.." She trailed off, frowning and furrowing her eyebrows at him. "You know what you're doing. You're just purposely annoying me."

" _Annoying_ you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I see."

She pursed her lips, not responding to him.

"As much as I would love to be in bed all day and torture you even more until you were begging for me to touch you properly: I have to get on with it. I want to be productive before the Aurors arrive later today," he told her smoothly, pulling away from her.

Astoria felt cold at his departure from the bed, curling the sheets closer to her body to compensate for his lost body heat.

"Draco?"

He made a sound of acknowledgment, but didn't turn back to her.

"Please be careful with the Pensieve. I know it has alterations from ordinary the ordinary. Just.. Tread carefully. I'm already very nervous."

"I know you are."

"So please?"

Draco sighed in mild irritation, pausing to glance up at the ceiling. "Alright, Astoria."

* * *

Adrian examined the office, squinting at the name before entering the building. Last time he had been here he had been looking for another woman who had told him she worked in the building, obviously now when he was looking for a different woman it was for a much different reason.

Hopefully that last woman he had been looking for wouldn't be in today.

He waited at the front desk as the squat woman at it went to retrieve the employee he had requested and he tapped his fingers on the counter restlessly, wondering how these people worked in such a stale office every day. He would probably lose his mind just sitting in it for as much as one.

"Hello, sir. How may I help you?" The pretty witch he had been looking for asked him, smiling brightly. Her smile faded slightly as she recognized him, but she held it stiffly before tucking a piece of her tight, shoulder length brown curls behind her ear.

Eh, her efforts were decent.

"Hello, love. I've been looking for you. Actually, I'm looking for your husband. When do you get off?"

The girl faltered, looking confused before she shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. You're Adrian Pucey, no? Then I don't think it's a good idea."

"What's wrong with Adrian Pucey? He's a fantastic guy, I've heard. Charming and sexy, as well as a new member of your family," he said to her, leaning forward over the counter and grinning slowly.

"I'm not following.." She murmured, glancing around somewhat nervously.

Did she think he'd attack her? Honestly, as if he didn't have better to focus his violence on should he feel a desire to use any.

"I recently married your sister in-law, you see. Daphne. You haven't met, but personally I believe in getting acquainted with all of my family members."

The girl blanched, taking a step back as she seemed to be reaching into her pocket for her wand. "I think you should leave, Mr. Pucey."

"Nah, I don't think I want to. Relax, darling. I'm not here to hurt you," he snorted, rolling his eyes and taking out his own wand before setting it on the counter in front of him, pushing it towards her. "You see? Now get a hold of yourself. Deep breaths. Count to ten. Isn't this _your_ area of expertise?"

She glanced between him and his wand, still guarded but she seemed to calm down a bit at his surrender of his wand. "What do you really want?"

"To talk to your husband," he said simply. "Take me to him."

"You can't just _demand_ me to do things," she bit at him, glaring. "That's not how you get what you want."

"Oh, come on. You should be used to demands by now. Disowned or not, you're married to a born and bred _prestigious_ pure-blood male," he drawled, looking her up and down lazily.

"I still don't understand what you're doing here," she said stiffly, ignoring his comment.

Because his comment was right, of course.

"No understanding needed as I'm here more to speak to him and not you. I know, I know. You feel less special now, but don't feel bad. It's not you, it's me. I'm sure you have a lot of amazing qualities that plenty of people would go out of their way to come explore. Unfortunately, that person is just not me, and I want to see Edric Greengrass."

"Well I'm fairly confident that Edric Greengrass does _not_ want to see you," she muttered, looking away from him as she seemed to be conflicted with herself.

"That's where you're probably wrong, I'd bet. Everyone ends up loving seeing me."

"When does the love set in?" She grumbled, looking back to him with slightly narrowed eyes.

"It helps if you don't fight it."

She sighed, bracing herself against the desk for a moment. "There are the new Death Eaters to worry about."

"For fuck's sake. I just offered you my wand, woman. Do I _look_ like I wallow around in dungeons and scream about how much I despise Harry Potter all day?" He demanded, offended at her suspecting him miserable enough to be a Death Eater.

She frowned, her eyes traveling down his body. "No, I suppose not, but the new attacks have come from families that have confused Edric."

"Confused us all, believe me. Perhaps him and I can discuss it when you take me home with you."

"You just expect me to lead you to my home? My _muggle-born_ home to meet my _blood traitor_ husband because of some ridiculous reason that you've married his sister who has never even attempted to contact him."

"She can't contact him. He's disowned," Adrian pointed out.

"She absolutely can contact him! He's her brother!"

"I don't think you get it, darling. Aren't you supposed to be good with different people's views and how they think?" He asked, tapping the side of his forehead. "We, especially the ancients, are not to speak of the disowned, and we are most definitely not to contact them. Why? Well, for few different reasons, but the ultimate one that will usually be given to those who so inquire summed up into a few words is: _daddy doesn't like it._ "

"Yes I've heard it all before," she replied, looking aggravated. "My husband insists on defending them. Forgive me for being defensive over the man I love."

"You've heard it all before but you don't understand? Or you do but choose not to?"

"It's hard to understand when I went through everything with him," she said stiffly. "Right as he was cast from his own family."

"He had you. His sisters and his mother had no one," Adrian offered thoughtfully.

"They had each other."

"Wrong."

The girl stared at him for a few moments, her deep brown eyes searching. "I'll take you to see him, but I wouldn't expect him to be overjoyed about it."

Adrian smirked, expecting her acceptance. Didn't take as long as he thought, actually. "Perfect."

"I'll take you now. I get off very soon anyway, and I have no other clients for today," she mumbled, going to the back to speak with her coworkers and to grab her things.

"Wonderful news, as I absolutely hate waiting and being still for too long," he told her peppily as she left.

The home was much bigger than he expected, though he wasn't sure why he had expected less. Children usually had their own funds in their own banks, and it was likely nothing happened to that when Edric was disowned. However, it was odd seeing a woman working in a small, stuffy building go home to a small mansion.

Once in the house, she called out loud for her husband, setting her things down to the side carelessly and leading Adrian to an oddly cozy living area.

"Ophelia," the deep voice came accusingly, a sound of alarm and irritation attached to it. "What have you done."

Adrian turned to face the owner of the voice, examining Edric and his clothing as well as his demeanor, finding him to present himself exactly as all the other men in his family's circle. You wouldn't be able to tell at all that he was a rejected son, gone to hand his prestigious name to some muggle-born.

"So good to see you, Edric. It's been some time," Adrian said heartily, grinning at him in greeting.

Edric narrowed his eyes at him before turning his cold gaze to his wife, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Edric," she said, glaring and crossing her arms. "You can at least wait for an explanation _before_ you are angry with me."

"Adrian Pucey is in my home. There's not much room for explanation."

"But we're brothers now," Adrian tsked. "It's only polite to be acquainted."

Edric blinked slowly before an amused look of doubt covered his features as he did him a once over. "A much more believable excuse for being here would suit you better."

"You're right. It's hard to believe that Daphne Greengrass could land such a highly esteemed bachelor, but here we are, and she's Daphne Pucey now."

"It's extremely unlikely my father would agree to marry her to one of you."

 _One of you_. Rude.

"Well, that's what happens when you fuck Draco Malfoy in an empty classroom and then he tells the whole community about it," Adrian said, shrugging. "Your options have to broaden a bit. I'm sure you'll hear about it soon enough, as you have access to the papers that circulate our circles I believe,"

Edric winced at his comment about his sister and Malfoy before his expression hardened, becoming more guarded. "Why are you here, Pucey."

"I told you, my dear brother. I'm here to get acquainted. Daphne was telling me so much about you, and I was curious."

His expression faltered and he looked beside Adrian, looking confused.

"I thought you said they didn't talk about the blood traitors, Adrian," Ophelia said, watching him, standing a bit away from her husband as she knew she had upset him.

"They don't, but Daphne had been holding it in so long she wasn't hard to crack. People tend to love talking about their problems to people who care to ask when they've never experienced that before. Don't you know that, doctor? Daphne didn't even know there was a muggle-born out there going by the Greengrass name. Imagine that."

"What did she say," he said quietly, a vulnerability in his tone.

"Lots of things about what happened when you left them."

"I didn't leave them," he ground out. "I was disowned."

"Yes, yes, but you knew the consequences of fucking around with a muggle-born, don't give me that. Especially visibly in public and near an event everyone in your community was attending. I also doubt you were disowned simply for being _seen_ with her, and I'm sure you were given a choice. So you left them. It's alright. It's miserable there. I get it, but don't try to say you didn't choose your life. Unfortunately, your choices affected those who loved you as well."

"A choice that I was only given moments to think about."

Ophelia was watching the floor, looking a bit hurt at Edric's statement about not leaving on his own choice. Adrian understood, an understanding wife or not; people wanted to feel like they were the only and most important thing in the world to the people they loved.

"Come here," Edric ordered, walking passed him and out of the room to a study, going to the near end of the room and opening doors to a small Pensieve.

"What the fuck," Adrian complained. "How does everyone get a hold of these? They're harder to purchase than you'd think."

Edric ignored him, motioning to the Pensieve impatiently.

"What, you just want me to subject my wife to exposure of her vulnerable state with no consent when your hospitalities towards me have been completely lacking?"

"I can.. Offer you some tea?" Ophelia offered sheepishly after following them.

"Sure, dove. Tea is fine," Adrian answered, amused by her poor host skills.

"She is my sister. I'm the last person to view her maliciously," Edric argued.

"I believe she views _you_ maliciously."

"She.. Has a right to," he said slowly, looking down as his eyes darkened.

Adrian considered him for a moment and shrugged. "Alright. I'll need my wand back. Your wife has it."

Edric's eyebrows raised. "You surrendered your wand to my muggle-born wife?"

"She didn't believe that I wasn't a Death Eater," he snorted. "Have you not corrected her in stereotyping all pure-bloods as Death Eaters? _Especially_ my lot."

"She's a bit stubborn when it comes to what I tell her about our sort. However, based on the recent attacks it's correct to be wary of nearly everyone."

Ophelia returned, handing him a cup of tea which he set aside, drawing an annoyed scowl from her. "Why did you ask me for it if you didn't want it?"

"I didn't ask for it. You offered, and I just felt like seeing you fetch me something if I'm being honest. I'm giving you a hospitality exercise."

She made a disgusted face and turned to look at her husband, who offered her an unsympathetic look. "You brought him here, love."

Adrian took his wand back when she finally offered it, pulling the memory of Daphne's words from his head and dropping it in the Pensieve. Eric hesitated before moving forward to watch, his body tense.

Once the memory ended, Edric pulled back, his face much less composed than before. Mourning covered his features as he scrubbed a hand over his face, pain in his light eyes. He greatly resembled his father. Ophelia frowned, moving to touch her husband's arm in concern. "None of that was ever my intention," he choked out, his voice breaking.

Adrian felt uncomfortable, wondering if this was a good idea. Making people upset was certainly not the highlight of Adrian's life.

"No, it wasn't, but there are still consequences to actions. It doesn't make it your fault, however, though it seems as if Daphne feels that way."

"Of course she feels that way, and I knew that. It's different hearing it."

"Astoria may not feel that way," Ophelia offered, attempting to provide a bit of comfort. "Maybe you could ask her about it, Adrian."

Adrian snorted loudly. "Absolutely fucking not. You want me to offer myself as sacrifice to the reputation assassin? Listen, my wife is the _shitty_ daughter of the family. Astoria is the golden child, and she's well up her father's arse, which was even more evident when Malfoy brought that Pensieve from her house. It's entirely incorrect to ask about these things, and I won't be asking asking _her_ of all people. Fuck, she just exposed Zabini to Potter for having fucked his Weasley just for mocking her. I'm already treading dangerously just for being here, I'll pass on suicide."

"What about the Pensieve from our house, Pucey?" Edric asked, his eyes snapping to his.

"My Auror friends tell me Astoria is quite reasonable," Ophelia argued, shaking her head.

"Astoria is politically correct. I can assure you she has no warmth in her heart for your _Auror friends_ , my dear."

"Pucey," Edric growled. "The Pensieve."

"Right. The big one. Malfoy took it. Astoria looked mortified I'll tell you that much."

Edric shook his head slowly, staring at Adrian. "He's a fucking idiot. You have to return it."

"I'll do no such thing. I don't fancy being the center of conflict, my brother. Plus, I want to use it. Tell me, where are the memories your father allegedly collects and has stored somewhere?"

"In the Pensieve," Edric snapped. "It holds them, and it will start extracting memories against the knowledge of the people around it eventually. You'd be intelligent not to go near it, and intelligent to tell Malfoy to put it back where it came from."

"Really?" Adrian asked, fascinated. "That's brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I'm even more excited now, actually."

Edric grit his teeth, looking away from him coldly.

"Won't Astoria get in trouble with her father for taking it?" Ophelia asked, watching her husband.

Adrian shrugged. "Probably. Maybe. She's supposed to listen to her husband though, so. I don't know how'd he'd handle that one. I don't know him, and have only come across him a few times. He wasn't there to sign the papers for our marriage either, just Freya. Freya would _not_ like you, lovely." he told her, eyeing her wild hair and common clothes.

"Astoria was so close to him from the memories I've seen," she said sadly, ignoring his assessment of her worth to her husband's mother. "Daphne seemed much more cold."

"You really want to like Astoria, I can tell, but you're wishing for someone who doesn't exist," he said, matching her sad tone to exaggerate sympathy. "This is the same girl who used the Cruciatus on a fellow classmate for well over the time suggested in only her fifth year before running into the arms of a Death Eater, a much _better_ Death Eater than the one she married. A man who has likely killed multiple of your kind with no sympathy at all. At least Malfoy is a terrible murderer."


	26. Chapter 26

Edric's head was still reeling after Pucey left, overwhelmed by what he had been shown as well as heard. He was grateful that Pucey had not witnessed Astoria performing the Cruciatus himself, seeing that he had already graduated from Hogwarts, as Edric would have had him show him that as well. He was sure seeing his baby sister perform such a spell would crush him even more so than he already had been from seeing Daphne's crying and broken face as she described what had transpired after he had left.

It was his fault.

He loved Ophelia, he loved his wife more than he could express, but the women in his family didn't deserve to pay for his love.

His sisters, his innocent and trusting little sisters hadn't deserved that.

His jaw tensed and his vision clouded more as memories of his sisters haunted him, reminding him of what he had left behind.

Tiny Astoria leaned against his legs, grumbling about how tired she was and about how she wanted to go home. "This is so boring, Edric. I _hate_ it," she pouted.

Edric chuckled and shifted his legs away, catching her by the arm before she toppled over. "Mother is going to whip your calves if you don't stand up straight, you know."

Astoria huffed loudly and yanked at the bun that was in her hair, pulling out all of the pins roughly before throwing them at the grass beneath their feet. "My hair is too tight. It hurts my head."

"You're always complaining," he pointed out, watching her with amusement.

"Well! There's a lot to complain about!" She cried. " _And_ that stupid boy called me stupid just because I spilt something on accident. As if I did it on purpose! _He's_ stupid!"

"Who called you stupid?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"The ugly one," she quipped, wrinkling her nose.

"Ah. Very specific," he said, scanning the group of younger boys ahead of them, not sure which one the child would deem ugly. "Nott?"

"No! He's my friend," she grumbled, looking at the tall boy he was referring to.

Edric snorted loudly. "He is _not_ your friend, Astoria."

"He is," she insisted. "I swear it."

"I don't approve of your friendship."

Astoria squinted up at him. "So? You're not the boss."

He smirked and kneeled down next to her. "I absolutely am the boss when father isn't around. I'm the other man of the house. Now, show me which boy called you stupid."

Astoria began to point and he slapped her hand down lightly. "Don't point," he scolded and she glared and shoved at his hand that smacked hers.

"The ugly one with the white hair."

Edric rolled his eyes, standing once more. "You know his name, Astoria."

"I don't want to use it," she sniffed.

"Mhm. I see. Well, I agree. The little shit is stupid."

Astoria giggled loudly. "Yes! The little shit is stupid."

Edric fought to hide his grin as he shushed her loudly, squeezing her shoulder. "Don't curse, no matter if I curse myself or not."

"You get to do everything," Astoria complained, shifting restlessly where she stood.

"That I cannot. Astoria," he said, his tone becoming serious as he addressed her.

"What?" She asked, looking up at his eyes.

"Never let a man make you believe that you're stupid, no matter how hard he may try," he told her clearly, searching her eyes.

"Why would I ever do that? Boys are _always_ the dumb ones. Even mother says so."

"Right. Good," he chuckled, nodding.

"Except you, Edric. You're not stupid. I'm still smarter than you though."

"Thank you, Astoria. I appreciate your praise very much. It means the world," he told her, his tone falsely honored.

"Astoria," Daphne complained, marching up to them. "What have you done to your hair? You look awful!"

"Just thought I'd look like you for the day," Astoria replied dully.

Edric snorted out a laugh, quickly covering it at Daphne's shooting glare and he watched the two girls pick at each other with affection.

Daphne grabbed her sister, attempting to fix her hair before Astoria shoved at her. "I'm not a doll!" She cried angrily, smacking at her.

Daphne yelped at her advances and shoved her back, smacking her back irritably. "Stop it! You're like an animal!"

Astoria stopped, holding her arm where Daphne hit her and stumbled back many steps away, false tears filling her eyes as she sniffled and bumped into Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa looked down at crying girl with concern and kneeled slightly to ask her what the matter was. Astoria pointed to Daphne, shaking gently with tears and Narcissa looked up to scowl disapprovingly at Daphne, murmuring something to Astoria before turning back to the woman who was previously speaking to her. Astoria returned to them slowly, her tear filled face still pitiful.

"Are you done, Astoria?" Edric asked her, raising an eyebrow at her.

Astoria wiped her eyes, beaming smugly at him. "Yep."

"Yes," he corrected her.

"Yep," she repeated firmly, her lips popping at the "p".  
Daphne fumed silently, glaring Astoria down before stomping away to find their mother to rat her out. Freya turned to look at Astoria, examining her hair before narrowing her eyes and motioning with her finger for her to come over to her.

Astoria pretended not to see her mother, looking away and around at the trees as well as the property around them. "Don't look at her, Edric," she hissed when she noticed him watching Freya, poking him hard in the leg.

Freya's eyes narrowed more and she moved from where she was chatting with different women to go to them, grabbing Astoria by the hair and yanking the small child in front of her to fix it. "What on _earth_ do you think you're doing?" She demanded.

"Mother. That ugly boy called me stupid," she said sadly, acting as if her feelings had been hurt by the insult.

"She means the Malfoy boy," he told his mother, watching Astoria's angry and wincing face at his mother pulling at her hair.

"Stupid?" Freya laughed coldly. "Please. Have you met his absolutely idiotic mother? _My_ child? Stupid? The nerve. You will never be stupid, Astoria. _I'm_ your mother." Freya paused before smacking Astoria on the arm on the same reddened spot where her sister had just hit her. "Don't do things to cause people, or other children, to call you stupid!"

Astoria cried out at the slap, holding her arm again as she scowled after her mother's retreating figure.

"I've been _beaten_ ," she exclaimed dramatically, looking up at Edric, her eyes looking more than offended.

Edric cleared his mind of the memory, shaking his head. He had known Astoria had changed significantly from how he had remembered her, he could realize that based on who she had married and how she had looked in the picture with Malfoy in some of the papers that focused on the gossip of the pure-blood world. Though besides that, he hadn't been able to find out much of what had become of his siblings. He was completely cut off from his previous community, and he knew better than to stick his head out too far or his father would not give him the same mercy he had initially of just allowing him to walk away. He and his wife lived in a secluded area well away from his childhood home and they kept to themselves as much as possible.

He supposed it would make life slightly easier if he chose to go by a different name, but his pride made it nearly impossible for him to even consider such an idea, and he wouldn't force his wife to act like she wasn't married to him either. She deserved better than that, probably deserved better than him actually.

"Edric," she said softly, stepping in front of him to search his eyes, her own deep ones filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry I brought him."

"Don't," he sighed, pulling her to him by the waist before pressing his face into her thick hair, inhaling her comforting warm scent. "I can't pretend them away. It's not right, and I don't wish to."

"But it feels so hopeless," she replied quietly, hugging him to her tightly. "I hate seeing you hurt. After all of these years, you're still hurting."

"There's no way around it, my love. You came at a big price, I have to say. I thought I could afford everything until I found you," he told her in a slightly playful tone, attempting to lighten the mood as not to upset her more with his suffering.

He felt her sigh and he pulled away, looking at her seriously. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Ophelia. I don't regret choosing you, but I regret the destruction I left in my departure."

"I know," she said quickly, looking embarrassed and guilty. "I was being silly and selfish. It was just a natural reaction."

"You said silly, I didn't," he pointed out, watching her with amusement.

Her eyebrows furrowed and she gave him a dull look. "You're not meant to agree."

"I don't recall agreeing."

"You _implied_ agreement," she muttered, pulling away from him.

Edric yanked his woman back against him, causing her to push fiercely at his chest. "Don't manhandle me, you infuriating git," she growled.

He pressed his fingers to her lips, shushing her, smirking as her eyes flashed with offense. She grabbed his hand away from her mouth and shoved it away from her.

"Beautiful women shouldn't look so angry all the time, darling. It's an incredible waste," he told her, taking her hand and kissing the palm of it.

She watched him unamused, closing her hand into a fist. "You think your rich boy charms work on me, Edric?"

He blinked at her, flipping her hand over and examining the ring there that claimed her as his. "Do I _think_?" He asked, his tone curious before he pulled her hand closer to her own face to look at the ring as well. "Or are we both looking at the evidence of how I _know_ that my 'rich boy charms' work on you rather nicely?"

"Please, that'a not why I'm married to you," she said confidently, lifting her chin. "Adrian was much more charming than you, really."

Edric pulled back slightly, laughing loudly at her words. "Really," she insisted, nodding but he only laughed louder.

"I'd like to see you around their lot for the day, my dear. It would truly entertain me."

"They seem nicer than yours," she pointed out, tilting her head.

He considered this for a moment. It was true, and it was one of the reasons they were looked down upon. "Indeed. Though you would still be appalled."

"I've had to deal with you for years. I'm not easily appalled anymore."

He chuckled in response, kissing her forehead affectionately. "He said Daphne was with his mother? Ah, she'll have fun with that one."

"Why?" She asked, frowning suspiciously at him. "I hope you're not being rude."

"She's very.. Friendly. She can barely speak English, and her accent is highly irritating," he replied, remembering the woman faintly from the only couple times he had met her. Her Ukrainian accent stuck out very clearly as did his mother's complaints about it.

"At least she speaks more than one language," Ophelia scolded him. "You can't critique her until you have to try and speak multiple languages fluently."

"I speak four languages fluently, Ophelia," he told her dully, cocking a brow at her.

She pursed her lips as she thought of a response. "That's not the point," she mumbled, knowing she had already lost.

"Actually, that completely contradicts the weak point that _you_ were attempting to make," he pointed out, enjoying her aggravation.

Edric kissed her deeply when she began to argue again, swallowing her words. He was thankful she didn't smother him in pity, though the deeper their kiss became the more his mourning for his family gnawed at him.

Ophelia broke their kiss when she felt his mood shift back to the negative, resting her hands on his chest. "Do you think your father replaced you with Astoria?" She asked quietly after a while.

Edric closed his eyes tiredly, her words confirming the worries he had had for his small sister. "Mmm. Perhaps with some modifications," he murmured, his mind drifting back to his father's constant watchful tasks he had for him as well as his mental digging. It was a wonder he had kept Ophelia from him before he had been disowned, but his father had effectively taught him Occlumency to the point where he could easily slip thoughts of Ophelia away as if she had never existed when he was around him.

However, his sister was not prepared to hide thoughts of her older brother with a muggle-born from his father.

"E-Edric," she had sobbed after running to him just right after Ophelia and her family had left, grabbing onto him desperately. "He saw.. Father saw.. What I saw.. What you did.. P-Please don't leave. He's so angry.. He's so, so angry.. I'm sorry! Please don't be mad at me! I'm sorry!"

Astoria choked on her sobs as Edric knelt down stiffly to kiss her forehead, realization of what she was so upset about washing over him as a chill shot up his spine as his father approached them where they were which was far from the event they were attending. He barely heard himself respond to his father's ultimatum when his ears began to ring as Astoria cried out her despairing protests, begging him to take her with him. His father blurred in his vision as he yanked up his sister roughly who was holding onto Edric for dear life, sobbing uncontrollably for him, begging him not to leave them, repeating how much she loved him, pleading him to choose them instead.

"The Aurors have requested a few of us to examine them, nearly all of them," his wife said quietly, pulling him from his own head.

He stilled. "No," he replied coldly.

"I could use a different name," she argued, frowning at him. "None of them know what I look like."

Ah, but one did.

"I can't imagine some of the problems that some of them have," she continued. "I mean, you yourself have-"

"I'm not one of your patients, Ophelia," he said slowly, narrowing his eyes as he pulled away from her.

"I know you're not, Edric.. That's not what I meant," she said slowly, regretting her words.

"What you meant is that I give you a taste of the fucked up people on the other side, and you're just dying to pick them all apart and see what's on the inside. They're human beings, they are not meant for work experiments."

"I just want to help," she said, her voice smaller now as she looked away from him.

"You don't want to help. You want to poke and prod and get beside yourself at how absolutely _horrible_ and _vile_ families like _mine_ are. You want to subject them to your own morbid curiosity while you judge and pity them. _Pity_. Ah, you're good at that sometimes, your people are very good at that."

He was growing more and more angry as he spoke, thinking of the ways she looked at him sometimes when things grew too loud and he couldn't be in the room any longer, when he held his breath for seemingly no reason, when he was beside himself when anything in his office was off in a certain way.

"I'm sorry you're angry, but you know I'm not trying to be malicious or disrespectful."

"That's what's so irritating about it; your attitude. You don't see how incredibly condescending you and your people can be."

When Ophelia said nothing, Edric went on. "If you think I don't like your little attempts at diagnosing me, please tell me how you predict actively prejudiced, angry, and cornered dark wizards and witches will react towards them? It's not safe, and I am not allowing my _mudblood_ wife to go into the homes of recent _Death Eaters_ ," he snarled, watching her cringe at the term. "Are they _fucking_ serious? Do they want you _dead_? Is this all a joke to them? Do they remember that they kill people?"

"Don't call me that," she said through gritted teeth, attempting to sound strong as her voice wavered.

"I'm not calling you that, Ophelia. I'm calling you what you are in _their_ eyes."

"Sometimes I feel like that's what I still am in your eyes," she bit out, trembling as her eyes filled with tears.

Edric's anger faded as guilt replaced it, a pain in his chest biting at him at her tears. "That's never what you were in my eyes," he told her, his voice softer. "Even from the start of it all I fought myself as I tried to convince myself that's what you were, but I never won my own battles."

"You lost everything because of what I am." She looked down as her emotion dripped down her freckled face. Edric moved to tilt her chin up, his anger completely gone now.

"Nothing of what I lost could have ever offered me the things you have given me."

* * *

 

"You know, your problem with food could be linked to trauma in your childhood," Narcissa Black told Freya Krat, nodding as she watched her put nothing on her plate in the Hogwarts Great Hall.

"Oh, is that so, Black? Reading up on Psychology, are we? Hmm. Which cliche childhood trauma of mine do you think it's linked to? My parents both having drinking problems? My daddy beating my mummy? My brother in all of his terrible glory? Or _perhaps_ it's merely the fact that we as women are only alive for men to order around, and if they don't like how they look we will be even more miserable than we will be if they are content with our appearance, and who really knows exactly what they're looking for in the appearance of a woman. Which do you think it is linked to, Black?"

Narcissa shifted uncomfortably, not looking at Freya as she was seemingly taken aback by her speaking of those things out loud.

"Oh right, I'm terribly sorry. How inappropriate of me. We aren't supposed to talk about what actually happens in our expensive mansions or the scars hidden under our overpriced clothing. Don't attempt to pick me apart like that again, Black, because I can _assure_ you I can do the same to you," Freya said smoothly, taking a drink from her water. "I've heard some nasty things about your family as well, and as it seems you are ignoring the shit we have to deal with: my dose of reality wouldn't be taken well by you. So, kindly mind your business. Thanks, lovely."

"Come on, Freya. Happy stories at breakfast, please," Rhys said, grimacing uncomfortably.

Narcissa didn't reply to Freya as she stabbed at her breakfast, scowling to herself.

"I see you're not mad at me anymore," Freya chirped as Joseph Nott sat beside her, piling food onto his plate.

"I don't recall ever staying mad you for long, unfortunately for my own sanity," he replied, rolling his eyes at her smug look. "Though I'm sure you were crying in my absence."

"Absolutely not," Freya snorted. "You are much more likely to cry over me before I ever cry over you, my darling."

"I'm surprised you aren't friends with Evelyn Bissette as she shares your hatred for men, Freya," Narcissa told her bitterly, glancing over at the dark skinned woman next to Aldrich Greengrass.

"My only two friends are men, Black. What gave you the idea that I have a hatred for them?" Freya asked coyly, tilting her head.

"Oh, so you admit we are your friends, do you?" Rhys asked, grinning.

"Fuck, did I agree to being your friend, Krat? I don't recall that either. I'm flattered, but I'm a very busy man. No time for friends," Joseph told her, feigning a disappointed tone.

"Don't worry that she didn't include you, Natasha. It took her years to say that out loud about us," Rhys told Narcissa, patting her on the arm.

"Narcissa," she corrected, pushing his hand off of her arm distastefully.

"Yes, very busy meeting with Lucius Malfoy and his group of lively mates to discuss your kink of bowing to a fucking half-blood," Freya snorted, glancing at Joseph irritably.

Joseph's eyes darkened, narrowing at Freya as he leaned closer to her. "Choose your words carefully when speaking of such matters. You will not speak that way about us and him again."

Freya leaned away from him, raising a slow and challenging eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?" She scoffed, laughing slightly.

Joseph kept his serious expression, not moving his eyes from her.

"Hmm," she mused thoughtfully, spreading her hands out in front of her and examining her fingers. "What's this? No ring on my finger claiming me to any man? And.. Last time I checked.. Ah, right. My last name. It's Krat. Not Nott. So I don't see why a man whose last name doesn't match mine is telling me what to do."

"As your friend it is my place to warn you when you ought to hold your tongue," he gritted out irritably, his dark expression falling.

"Friend? Oh no, you're too _busy_ to have friends, Joseph. My mistake. I'll be off until your 'I say jump, you say how high' as if I'm your obedient little wife attitude ends," she said firmly, gathering her things to leave, ignoring Joseph's aggravated protests. She paused as she passed Aldrich, his voice slowing her.

"A true obedient wife doesn't have to ask how high," he said thoughtfully, not looking to her. "She already knows."

The scene from the Pensieve faded from the room in Malfoy Manor, the audience of it quiet as they thought it over. "My favorite part was when Nott said 'I don't recall ever staying mad at you for long'. Truly, that was golden," Blaise said gleefully, looking highly amused at himself. "This is highly entertaining, but your mother could have given you more interesting memories, Draco. I want to see some real shit."

"She gave me what she didn't mind me seeing, which is not likely to be terribly interesting. Plus, she's a woman, and she was not involved with the more relevant matters. Besides, you are choosing to be here while I play around with this thing," he replied, though he still found the memory quite interesting, oddly enough.

"Your mother seemed quite cozy next to Greengrass, Zabini," Nott told him. "Perhaps they were sleeping together."

Draco rolled his eyes at that, shaking his head. "It's interesting to see the beginnings of our parents as Death Eaters. Perhaps these memories can reveal more than we thought about current events."

Astoria was still quiet beside him as she recovered from the memory his mother had provided, seemingly caught off guard at what she had seen in many ways.

"We've learned that Greengrass was always creepy as shit," Pucey snorted, shaking his head as he fiddled with his empty glass. "Let's not turn this into an investigation. I'm just here to be entertained."

"That's your father in-law you're talking about, Adrian," Astoria said defensively, frowning.

Fuck, did she realize how irritating she was sometimes? He was beginning to feel like she should have never been married and remained her father's darling daughter forever.

"Pucey, you never did tell us how the frigid bitch was adapting to her new surroundings," Zabini drawled, eyeing him.

Adrian dropped the glass in his lap and clapped his hands together loudly, sitting forward. "Let's set some ground rules, shall we? Rule number one: don't say shit about my wife. That's the only rule actually, unless I think of more later. If you break the rule, I'm going to fuck you up. I don't give a damn if you have a cute little skull tattoo on your arm. We will fight, and I will win. Alright, friends?" He asked, his tone friendly in contrast to his words.

"Are we meant to be intimidated, Pucey?" Nott snorted, smirking at him.

"Completely up to you, Nott. Want to find out if you should be? I wouldn't mind, as I think you're a fucking arsehole," Pucey replied, shrugging.

"Please do," Draco drawled, eager to see anyone attack Nott, though he wasn't sure how Adrian would do against him.

"Do you honestly think you could defeat me?" Nott chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

"Very confident there, just like a true fucking arsehole would be. Did little Astoria teach you how to perform the Cruciatus as well as she can and that's why you're so cocky? There are more spells than that, and you don't have to wear a pointy hood and mask to know some threatening magic, mate."

"I wasn't aware my wife performed a Cruciatus," Draco said dully, leaning back in his seat with little interest, not taking his comment seriously.

"You wouldn't, Draco, as I heard you were a bloody mess seventh year," Adrian grinned. "But yeah, she did, according to the grapevine. Heard Nott here guided her through it."

Astoria shook her head slowly, looking very lost. "I don't know what you're on about, Adrian, but I can assure you I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Perhaps the 'grapevine' was talking about another blonde."

Draco caught Nott's uncomfortable look and his attention narrowed in on him, sitting up slowly. He froze as the Pensive became active on it's own, filling the room with the scene of Astoria practicing the unforgivable curse on the boy who had attacked her in her fourth year, the memory ending with Nott taking her into his arms, concern and care for Draco's wife etched into his features.

Astoria opened her mouth to speak in alarm as the memory faded, but Draco didn't catch her words before he was invading Nott's mind, Nott completely unable to stop him.


	27. Chapter 27

Astoria was frozen when Draco stood to attack Theodore, staring through the violent scene as she struggled to focus her thoughts, confused and shocked by what the Pensieve had shown. She finally cleared her sight to see Draco crash into the coffee table as Theodore cursed him back when she was taken over by a flood of memories that slammed into her mind in a long, fast and overwhelming stream. She choked on a burst of emotion, emotions she didn't have until now and she brought her hands up to her head, her eyes moving wildly as she tried to land her attention on just one thread of memory.

All of them of Theodore.

She had never noticed how much of her fifth year was missing, never noticed because she barely remembered most of her years at Hogwarts. They were all blurs of the happenings and information of others, as that's what she had always focused her attention on.

That year, she had her own happenings.

Her head pounded as the sweet exchanges between her and Theodore from that year echoed in her ears, his reassuring words sincere and penetrating. His lips on her head, his lips on her cheek, his lips at her ear.

Hot and paralyzing anger poured through her as she realized what he had done, what he had _stolen_ from her against her will, against her naive _trust._

Oh to trust a man in such a way, her mother would mock her so.

She was so tired of not having her mind to herself, the men in her life had to tarnish every single aspect of it that she couldn't even call it her own, she didn't even belong to herself.

Her ears rung as she registered Theodore scrambling up from the ground, throwing unintelligible curses at her husband who she wasn't looking at, wasn't as angry at.

She was so incredibly angry at Theodore, angry at all of the men who stole her privacy from her, her emotions, her world. She accepted that when her memories meant next to nothing, when all of her thoughts surrounded mundane and impersonal nonsense, could tolerate it when she knew what to expect; knew what to prepare herself for.

She hadn't been prepared for this, hadn't been prepared to _feel_.

She couldn't tolerate this. This was too much.

And he had _taunted_ her, he had flaunted himself in her face knowing full well of their history, knowing she belonged to another man. He mocked her with his advances, mocked her with his flirting and made her into an object to infuriate Draco.

What was _wrong_ with him, the man who had claimed to love her.

The man she loved.

A numbness crossed her as her anger flashed into a chill, her eyes taking in Blaise shoving Theodore back and Adrian disarming Draco. Both of the men were bloody, both of the men were savagely angry.

Though she doubted them as angry as herself.

Astoria rose slowly, her eyes fixed on Theodore as she drew her wand, stepping towards the men who were not paying attention to her.

Rarely did anyone pay attention to her.

"What right," she began, her voice coming much clearer and colder than she had thought possible in the unstable state she was in. "What right do you believe you had to me, to my mind, to think you could erase my own life from me?"

Theodore stared at her, the fury in his eyes fading to an odd, pained expression as she moved towards him, her wand fixed on him as the room blurred around his form, her target.

She didn't allow him to answer before she cursed him wordlessly, watching him double over in pain, not attempting to defend himself with his own wand.

Of course he wouldn't fight her properly. She was just a fragile woman to him.

"What right," she demanded again, thrusting her wand forward again to throw him back to hit the wall. "You had no right," she hissed, answering her question for him.

If he wanted to abuse her mind, it was only fair if she were allowed to do the same to his. She focused her attention on him as she pointed her wand towards his head, drawing his strongest memories of pain to his attention, watching him intently as he curled in on himself, tortured sounds escaping his lips.

The lips that had claimed hers just before he had obliviated her.

She closed her mouth to cover a cry and she began recklessly throwing any curse she could think of at him, her vision blurring completely now as tears gathered in her eyes, blinding her.

"Let me go!" She cried out angrily, fighting against the arms pulling her back, forcing her wand from her hands and the faint sound of apparition was heard in the room. She turned in Adrian's arms, shoving away from him angrily. "Let me go," she repeated again once released from his grasp, grabbing at her head.

"Astoria," he said cautiously, concern in his tone. "You're alright. They've left. All of them."

_All of them._

She felt a pain where her hand had dragged along her temple and into her hair and she pulled her hand down to stare at her bloodied wedding ring that had twisted around so the stones were palm-side up.

Draco.

Draco knew, and he found out just at the same time she did, even though it had happened in her fifth year.

Such intimate memories that he shouldn't know, and memories that she should have known before tonight.

"Astoria," Adrian repeated her name gently. "I think you should come home with me. Draco is very angry, and he's not very rational. I don't want you to suffer his temper."

"No," she told him, shaking her head as she wiped her eyes shakily. "No, I am fine."

She wasn't fine, she had never felt less fine.

Another lie.

Adrian was quiet, and she could feel his eyes on her though she didn't look at him. Why was he still here? Why did he care?

She just wanted to be alone.

"Please come to my home if you need to. There's no shame in it, and Draco won't do anything to me. I want you to be safe, and Daphne wants you to be safe. I don't know if I've ever seen him so angry."

She nodded numbly, wishing for him to let her be, though a part of her latched onto his showing of friendship. She had so little experience with it.

She dully felt Adrian kiss her head and murmur his sympathy to her.

"I'm sorry, love. He's a fucking arsehole." She wasn't sure which arsehole he meant.

When he finally left, the silenced smothered her.

She expected to cry; she _needed_ to cry. The lump in her throat was so incredibly painful that she silently begged herself to cry to relieve it.

But she just stood there, stood there for several minutes as she took in her new reality.

She was in love, and it wasn't with the man she was married to.

She was just beginning to get comfortable as Draco's wife. She was beginning to fall into the role she was meant to play, and she was beginning to have quite the affection for Draco. He was a difficult man to maneuver, but he wasn't horrible. He had been warming up to their relationship, and now she was sure he'd be cold as ice to her once more.

Now she felt what real affection for a man felt like, and it ruined how she was beginning to feel about her husband.

It was all his fault.

She trembled slightly, feeling her malicious feelings for Theodore melting away. She fought to hold onto them, needing to hate him. She couldn't love him, couldn't want him. He had hurt her, he had taken advantage of her, he had treated her in a way he had no right to, he had broken her trust.

But she loved him.

She placed a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as her thoughts were at war with each other. She felt nauseated and confused, and worst of all out of control. So out of control.

_Love._

Love had come back to mock her again, had come back to be taken from her _again._

She breathed unevenly in the silence as it became overbearing in her ears. There was nothing to focus on besides her own mind, which was currently murdering her. She would be fine, she would be fine, she would be fine.

_She wasn't fine._

She was wrong, she didn't want to be alone. She hated being alone. She needed a distraction, she needed someone to take her away from her thoughts and creeping heartbreak. As soon as she stopped being furious she knew she would recognize her heartbreak, a faintly familiar feeling. She began to hum in order to fill the silence, a melody that came from her mother, though her voice was wavering and pathetic and the tune came out more strangled than anything musical. These feelings were reminding her of the old. The feelings so buried and left in the back of her heart in hopes to be forgotten and they scalded her as they began their attempts to resurface.

The men in her life all exhausted her in some sort of way. They all hurt her, took from her, or abandoned her. No matter what she did or how hard she tried to please them, she just couldn't win.

They always won.

She was beginning to understand her mother's bitterness and advices, though she had never wanted to before.

Astoria stood there for a long time. She wasn't sure how long, but when she moved to look at the clock it was well past the late hours. She was still humming, and her tune was much more level now. She had settled her thoughts enough to be in control again, but unfortunately her anger had faded next to nothing, and only her hopeless love remained.

Draco wasn't back, and she wasn't sure at which point he had left when she had been attacking Theodore. She was sure he was angry with her, though it was not her fault. It was not as if she had lied to him, but then again men had a way of making it the woman's fault. Perhaps he'd be angry at her for attacking him. That was not proper of her one bit, and she had made more than one scene of anger in front of his friends already, and she had been warned.

Perhaps he'd think her a slut for simply _kissing_ the man. Kissing him right next to his bed, seemingly willing to give him anything he wanted. She had been willing to give him anything and everything he wanted. She had trusted him.

She was stupid.

She was so stupid, so naive. How could she be so naive? She had not been raised to be naive. What if she had had sex with him and had been falsely pure? Then Draco would truly have a wounded pride.

"Men want their women as pure and innocent as possible so they can wipe their filthy hands on us and feel cleansed," her mother would always say.

Filthy, filthy hands they had.

Her stinging eyes settled on the Pensieve, quiet and calm in the dark and mess of a room now that the men had torn it up in their feud. She grit her teeth, raising her wand to move it back to the corner of the room, charming it to appear as nothing, wishing away its existence. She had to leave, she had to get out of this cold place.

Though when she left, she didn't go to the Pucey's.

* * *

 

The Nott house-elf allowed her in, informing her that Mrs. Nott was not at home, but that she was welcome to wait for Joseph Nott to come down if she'd like. She shook her head, asking to be directed to Theodore's bedroom and the house-elf blinked at her, a look of judgement coming into the creature's eyes.

"Right this way, _Mrs. Malfoy_ ," the elf said, sneering the last bit.

Nasty thing.

Astoria followed the house-elf up to the doors of Theodore's bedroom and she waved her hand dismissively at it, watching it snort and walk away, grumbling about her marriage status and how with it she was coming to another man's bedroom.

Astoria opened his door without knocking, entering his bedroom and closing the door behind her before slowly looking up to find him getting up from his bed, looking at her with both surprise and caution.

He was a mess, and she couldn't tell which injuries were from her and which injuries were from Draco. She was sure Draco was in a similar state, as she knew neither of them had won the fight seeing as they had been broken up before it could be finished. She could see why it had been broken apart by Blaise and Adrian based on the state Theodore was in. She felt her face soften immediately at his appearance, guilt stabbing at her for this wounded man she unfortunately had feelings for.

Her Theo.

She swallowed and forced her face to harden again, but quickly noticed from the expression on Theodore's face that he had caught her look of sympathy for him.

"Astoria," he started, stepping towards her.

She held up her hands, not wanting him to come to close to her. "Don't. Just explain yourself, Theodore," she said quietly, looking away from his eyes, those eyes that brought memories she wasn't used to having.

He stopped, nodding slowly. "I.. I loved you," he said, looking from her as he thought of what to say. "I love you. You have to know that."

Astoria bit into her tongue painfully, her chest physically in pain at his words. She remembered him now as a younger boy, her childhood friend, memories that were less clear to before were fresh and vivid to her now.

This was already too much.

"My mother is.. A bit stuck in the past. She's not as horrible about that when she's sober, which is rare, but as you know my parents have a past with your mother. She wanted revenge, and I just wanted her to finally be done with it. I was also a bit cross with you at the time, as you seemed to have forgotten that we had been friends and you were different, focused on other things. Focused on Malfoy, sixth year especially. I was bitter after sixth year, and going into seventh I had convinced myself I was fine with seducing you.. Ruining you. I was wrong of course, as I had always cared about you too much to wish such humiliation upon you. I was only jealous of the fact you never paid much attention to me after we were kids. So I fell for my own seduction. I couldn't have done that to you, Astoria. I couldn't have broken you that way, disrespected you that way, and I knew I would have been able to. I knew you would have given me what I wanted, and fuck I wanted it." His eyes darkened at his own words at the end. "I definitely wanted it."

Astoria was silent, slowly picking apart the details of his story, ignoring the stirring in her at his last statement.

"You asked me if it bothered me," she said finally, watching his eyes.

He shook his head slowly, indicating that he wasn't following.

"If it bothered me that people had a habit of underestimating me."

"Ah," he said, his eyebrows coming together. "Yes, I remember."

"I didn't think it did, but now," she broke off, taking a breath to steady her voice. "Now that you underestimating me has resulted in this: I'd like to change my answer."

"I didn't-"

"You did," she cut him off, gritting out her words. "Do you believe I didn't know of your family's distaste for me? I know our women. I know how to read them, and I can see through the false niceties we all put on for each other. You didn't attempt to tell me the truth, and you continued to lie to me and tell me your parents liked me just fine. Which was alright with me, it let me pretend longer, but I never imagined you'd just.. Steal us from me. You didn't give me a choice, Theodore. You didn't let me choose what I wanted to do. You _took_ a part of me with you when you erased my memories. You did that because you thought you knew what was best and that I was just too precious and incapable to handle things for myself, or at the very least handle them with you. Do you think I'm stupid, Theo?"

"Of course I don't think you're stupid, Astoria," he told her, his voice weak now at her words. "I just-"

"You must think so, and it's alright. I am. I was stupid for letting myself fall in love with you, and stupid for trusting you not to hurt me."

"I'm sorry, Tori," he said, his voice shaky now.

"It's not okay." Tears were filling her eyes now, and she looked away from his that were too sincere, too caring for her to handle. "It's not okay. _I'm_ not okay, and It hurts. It hurts. I love you now and it hurts so terribly because I'm not yours, and now I never will be. Yet still, you took a piece of my life from me and you _still_ make advances, you still taunt my husband, you still mess with our marriage. You have absolutely no right to do that."

"I never claimed nobility."

"Never claimed nobility," she repeated slowly, scoffing. "Wasn't this whole act meant to be noble?"

"It's fucking torture to see you with him," he ground out. "It fucking kills me to know you have his name, sleep in his bed, _touch_ him. It fucking _murders_ me to know how he mistreats you."

"It's all mistreatment from men. It just comes in different forms," she replied coldly.

Ah, she wasn't sure if she ever felt more like her mother.

He paused, searching her eyes. "Are you going to attack me again, Tori?" He asked, an odd amusement filling his futures.

She scowled in confusion at his change of tone. "I won't apologize for that. I'm sorry I displayed something different from the girl you fell in love with, but I won't apologize for hurting you." Yet, she did feel sorry for hurting him, for making him bleed. So many lies tonight.

"You're wrong," he said simply.

"What?"

"You're wrong. It's the same girl, it's all the same girl," he murmured, shaking his head as his gaze became unfocused.

Suddenly, all she wanted to do was go to him. Go to him and bury herself in him, rest in his arms, bury her face in his chest, and inhale his now familiar warm scent. She was crumbling, and crumbling fast. "Did I hurt you very badly?"

"I thought you didn't care about that." His tone was smug now, and she regretted her question.

"I said that I wouldn't apologize, not that I didn't care."

"So you do care."

"Of course I care," she told him, glaring at him in frustration. "I love you."

"You love me," he confirmed, nodding. "Good."

"No, it's not good. It's terrible, and it ruins everything in my life. I was just beginning to truly care for Draco-"

"No," he cut her off, his tone firm and icy. "No you don't truly care for _Draco_."

"You stole my contentment! You stole my chance at being _okay_ in my marriage."

"Settling."

"I have to settle. We all settle. That's what we do, Theo. You know that by now, and the evidence is in almost every single relationship around us."

He said nothing, because he knew she was right.

"And now it's so much harder. It's so much harder because I love you, but I belong to another man," she choked out, wiping her eyes roughly before her tears fell.

"You're wrong again, Tori," he said, his eyes glinting with a cold humor. "You're mine, and you have always been mine."

Astoria's shoulders fell, defeated at his words as they burned her, making her body aware of just how much she wished she was with him and not her husband, wished she were truly his. "Why are you doing this to me?"

He sighed, giving her a tired look. "Because I'm a fucking arsehole, Astoria."

She had to laugh at his confirmation of Adrian's words, and she wondered how crazy she must look as she laughed in the emotional state she was in.

"We have to say goodbye," she said after a while of silence between them.

"Indeed," he agreed solemnly.

"This time I'd like my memory to remain intact."

"No worries as the scene is not quite the same"

She took a deep breath, making what was most likely the wrong decision. "I was getting to that."

His head turned slightly and his eyes flashed with something animalistic. "Oh? I'm not sure what you mean."

"I want.." She started before frowning, feeling silly now; shy. "I want you to kiss me goodbye."

A slow, triumphant smirk spread over his face and he began to move towards her, his body language predatory. She took a step back, her heart pounding now. She had not suspected this reaction as he had been sweet with her the first time, had always been sweet with her.

"Are you _honestly_ smirking at a time like this?" She spluttered out, her demanding tone weak.

He ignored her, grabbing her face in his hands as he eyed her mouth hungrily. "You shouldn't allow me to do this, love. This was a mistake," he purred before his eyes flicked up to look into hers. "Because I'm going to make it so every time he touches you now you'll only ever be able to think of me."

He kissed her then, his lips hard and bruising against hers. She struggled for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity.

This was _not_ the goodbye she had meant.

But she kissed him back just as hard, all thoughts of sanity falling away as she felt the raw passion for the man she loved pounding in her head. She didn't remember anything then, not her husband, not her duties, not her morals. She only remembered this man and her feelings for him, her needs for him.

She cried out in surprise and slight pain when she was picked up and slammed against his bedroom door, his hands pushing up her body as he touched her, claimed her. She felt her magic pulsate in alarm, warning her that this was not who she was magically bound to, that this was not her husband.

Draco would definitely know now if he didn't already.

His hands were not careful like Draco's, not nearly as calculated. They were messy and harsh as they dragged against her body over her clothing, only barely avoiding her most intimate places that he somehow had enough respect and control to not go near.

Though her body certainly wished him to.

Which he both knew and wanted, which was why his touches were so merciless. As he said: he never claimed nobility. He wanted her to ache for him, and he wanted her to ache for him long after their goodbye.

His mouth broke from hers to drag down her neck and she gathered in some needed air that his relentless mouth had been denying her. She had to end this. She had to stop this before it went much too far.

It had already gone much too far.

He seemed to sense her limits and he set her down gently, bringing her away from the door. Her body whined at her, begging her to push herself back against him and have him take her to his bed.

Absolutely not, she was not _that_ out of control.

His face was different now. Sad and gentle. He took her face in his hands again, gently now to cup it lightly. He kissed her again softly, his lips sweet and apologetic and he ended the kiss much quicker than the first.

"Goodbye, Astoria."

She felt the emotion in her building again, nearly feeling her heart tear at his words, the finality of their exchange sinking into her.

"Goodbye, Theodore."


	28. Chapter 28

The Manor was just as cold and dark as Astoria had left it, but only now her mother was there, waiting for her.

Not now. Please not her, not now.

"Astoria," Freya quipped, squinting at her. "What is going on with your face."

Astoria wrapped her arms around herself, struggling to keep herself from becoming a blubbering mess in front of her harsh mother. She opened her mouth to greet her but stopped, realizing there was no way she could get any clear words out.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Astoria," she snapped. "Get a hold of yourself. Your weakness is nauseating. Where is your husband? You went out without him?"

Astoria shook her head, she didn't know where Draco was or if he had come home. She hoped he wasn't there, and she hoped he would calm his anger at least a bit before he returned.

"I expected your sister to be holed up here, avoiding her new husband. I was coming to check on her actually, but as she doesn't appear to be here I suppose my trip was an unnecessary risk."

Yes, an unnecessary risk. Her mother certainly hadn't come to check on her after she had married Draco. It wasn't about their well-being; it was about whether or not they were acting correct towards their husbands.

Both of the women looked to the house-elf when it appeared into the room, informing Astoria that her things had been moved back to her own bedroom.

So he had come back, and she had been kicked out of his bedroom.

Freya watched the spot where the house-elf disappeared from for a while before turning to look at Astoria again, her familiar green eyes searching. "Where have you come from, Astoria?" She asked slowly, her tone gentler now.

Astoria felt her lower lip tremble like a child as heavy tears pooled in her eyes, spilling over and dripping down her face. "The Nott's," she barely got out, covering her mouth with her hand as if she were going to vomit.

Her mother's face fell in a way Astoria had never seen, a look of sympathy filling her features as she went to her, pulling her into an embrace that she hadn't experienced from her mother since she was a little girl.

That pushed her passed control.

She fell apart in her mother's arms, pressing her face into her warm shoulder as she shook with sobs and Freya lowered them both to sit on one of the couches. Astoria sucked in a breath, breathing her mother's familiar scent, taking comfort in it and her closeness. The scent of her was different than she appeared, natural and a mix of essential oils with just a bit of a lighter perfume as opposed to being soaked in a strong, sweet perfume as many of the women they knew were.

Freya let her cry in her arms until her sobs quieted as Freya hummed softly, the same tune Astoria had come to know and hum herself, rubbing her back with the tips of her fingertips. She wasn't sure why her mother was being so out of character, but she wasn't sure what she would have done if she hadn't been there to soothe her.

"I won't force you to tell me what happened, but if you'd like to I'm here to listen," her mother told her once Astoria had quieted, her breath coming in childlike hiccups.

Gratitude swept over her at her mother's words. She wasn't demanding the truth, she didn't take the truth, but she gave her a choice instead. Astoria felt an odd satisfaction when she decided herself to tell her mother what happened, explaining everything to her on her own will. It shocked her how comfortable she felt doing so, as she didn't know anyone more likely to be mercilessly critical to her than her mother.

Freya was quiet for a long time after Astoria had finished, and her arms had stiffened around her more than once when she had been speaking. She wondered if she was planning on saying anything at all. Astoria didn't mind either way as just the fact that she was here when she needed her, though she didn't know she'd ever need her in this way, was enough.

"Love is the worse pain you will ever come to know, sweetheart," she said finally. "You've felt it one way, and now you're feeling it another. I am so sorry that on top of all the difficulties you have to put up with you have to experience this as well."

There was a long pause, and Astoria was stunned by her mother's thoughtful and mournful words for her. She didn't want to think about what she meant when she had told her she had already felt the pain of love in one way, so she mentally disregarded that bit.

"Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, you have survived this and will continue to survive it."

"I don't want to only survive," Astoria replied, her voice small. "I want to feel like I'm living. I want to feel like I'm someone more than just a wife to my husband just as so many others."

"The price for the top is high, and it's a price we will keep paying until the day we are surviving no longer."

The top of what? What was the point?

Astoria closed her eyes, shivering. She appreciated her mother's honesty, but the truth was not at all relieving. "I just wish I wasn't so stupid," she whispered.

Freya took a deep breath, adjusting Astoria in her arms. "I'm not going to tell you that you aren't stupid, as you yourself have made yourself believe that, and only you yourself can convince yourself otherwise. Though I do have to remind you that you are _my_ daughter."

Astoria smiled slightly against her mother's clothes, nodding slowly. "How could I forget? You make a point of making yourself memorable."

"That's right," she answered and Astoria could hear the smirk in her voice. "I do love you, Astoria. I know I don't tell you enough, and I know I'm hard to love back, but I never wanted this for you. You deserve so, so much better," she continued, her voice breaking off slightly near the end in warning of tears. Astoria had never seen her mother cry. "You definitely don't deserve to pay for the things I've done."

"Were you ever in love?" She asked quietly, changing the subject.

"Yes."

"But not with father."

Her mother laughed in response and Astoria nodded, expecting as much. "Have I met him?"

"No."

Astoria frowned. She was sure she had met nearly every man in their community. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure, darling."

Astoria decided to drop it, not wanting to push her mother. She sat up and touched her puffy eyes lightly, letting out a shuddering breath.

"Well, you look like thorough shit," Freya told her, grimacing as she examined her face. "Perhaps it's a good thing you've been thrown out of your husband's bedroom."

That was the mother that she knew, her kindness was fun while it lasted.

"I must be going, Astoria. I've already been here much longer than necessary," she told her and Astoria stood, swaying slightly in dizziness and exhaustion. "Get some sleep and do something about your appearance. A pretty face is harder for a man to ruin, and I can assure you Draco definitely wants to ruin you right about now."

* * *

 

Freya was so fucking tired.

She was so tired of the bullshit that smothered every inch of this complete monstrosity of a life she was attempting to push through. Every time she felt things could not get worse: life had a way of reminding her that it was _always_ possible to get worse.

She found herself in the inside of the Nott home, not shocked that Joseph had not changed the wards from what they were when she was a teenager with him. Though the place had changed a bit aside from the wards and the home felt similarly to the Malfoy Manor now. Cold and dark, just as her old friend had changed in the same way.

Freya examined the large glass display cabinet on the side wall before pointing her wand at it and watching it shatter, the loud sound of glass exploding filling the mansion. She blocked the shards from hitting her just before they cut her skin, waiting calmly for the man of the house to come and inspect the noise.

"Hmm. Your entrances always were lovely, Freya. Though I have to inform you: it is possible to act like a normal person and simply ask for me," Joseph said from behind her, a false kindness in his voice.

She turned around, meeting Joseph's angry gaze, and resentment for the man she used to care so deeply for burned in her throat.  
"Oh, but my way is so much more satisfying, love," she told him, a tight smile on her face. "We have serious matters to discuss."

"We haven't discussed any matters for long enough that I don't believe that's true. I'm sure we can go much, much longer without any speaking. I'd prefer it that way, really."

Freya tsked, shaking her head pitifully. "I would respect that but," she broke off, looking away from him and laughing quietly, almost madly. "But now you've gone after my child, and you've made her cry. Does it feel good? Making a young girl cry? Now I must make yours cry, as it's only fair."

Joseph shook his head, looking at her as if she was completely mental. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Freya. I don't go near your children, and I don't care to make them cry or whatever nonsense you're claiming."

"No? Your son tells my daughter differently. She was just here actually, did you see her?"

"I just got home, Freya," he ground out, looking frustrated.

"Aw, cute. Still around fucking whores then. Let's find little Theo, yes? Your lovely wife too. You both need to see your child suffer as I've seen mine," she told him brightly, pushing passed him to make her way up the stairs. She turned to him again, sensing his advances, pointing her wand in return to his pointed at her. "Now, that's not fair," she scolded. "You ought not curse someone with their back turned. No need to show me up, I know this house probably better than your own wife."

"You won't go near my son," he said darkly, stepping towards her.

"I won't? Are you going to stop me? I recall the last time you attempted to fight me. It didn't end well for you."

"Didn't end well for you either, Freya. Now let us talk about this calmly as adults, as I sincerely don't know what you're talking about."

"Your son seduced my daughter," she hissed, lowering her wand and walking towards him again. "He seduced her because your wife told him to."

Joseph closed his eyes, dropping his head back.

"And now her heart is broken and she's cheated on her husband."

Joseph said nothing for a while, not opening his eyes or lifting his head. "Freya," he said finally, his voice even. "I swear to you. I was not aware of this, and I have warned her against these things."

"I can't believe anything you say anymore. You lost the right to my trust," she spat, turning again.

"You truly need a fucking translator because I never know what the fuck you're talking about as you're either speaking in riddles or plainly making shit up. I never lied to you."

"Or perhaps the problem is that you don't know how to _listen_. You never lied to me? That's interesting, as I recall you setting my own brother on me after you assured me that you'd _never do that_."

Confusion fell over his face before understanding erased it and he began to shake his head in disbelief. "That.. That is what this is all about. Everything.. Everything you have done, everything that has happened between us. Are you fucking joking me, you crazy bitch?" He asked in almost a choke, laughing in bewilderment. "You sold out my family, my parents who adored you, you ruined me.. Because I informed your brother of you being a fucking idiot?"

"You don't know anything, Nott," she replied coldly, nearly shaking in anger at his words, words that belittled what he had done, what was his fault. "Nothing."

"You betrayed me over that petty bullshit. I can't believe you. This has to be a joke," he went on, still in shock.

"You betrayed me. I returned the favor."

"The favor was not evenly returned!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "For fuck's sake, Freya. It was what was best for you."

Freya started laughing quite hard at that. What was best for her? Why did men always defend their wrongs with such an excuse? Who was he to decide what had been best for her?

"Thank you so much, Joseph. Thank you for letting my horrible sibling _take care of me_ to make sure I wouldn't be a 'fucking idiot' any longer. Truly, what a good friend you are."

"I knew you wouldn't listen to me, so I had to tell him, but you're right. It was mistake."

"A mistake," she repeated. "A mistake? Yes, men are allowed their fair share of mistakes, aren't they? Though when you've made enough of them and we lose our sanity: we're suddenly 'crazy bitches'."

"I'm sorry for snitching on you, love," he sneered. "I truly deserved your exorbitant amount of revenge."

"Glad we can agree," she said through her teeth, resisting the urge to lift her wand to him.

"I'd like you to leave. I will speak to both my son and wife. Nothing else will happen to your family because of mine again."

"The damage is done, darling, and my husband will surely not be pleased to hear of this."

Joseph stiffened, a slight panic filling his eyes but he held his composure for the most part. "Freya. Please," he said calmly.

"Aw, more scared of my husband than me?" She pouted, pushing out her lower lip mockingly. "I'm hurt."

"I'm begging you," Joseph said, ignoring her mocking as his shoulders fell, looking slightly defeated.

She was sure he was quite fed up with his misfortunes. Tired, as was she.

"Begging? Will you get on your knees too? You're good at that, I know."

"Freya," he said again, his eyes tired. "Please don't hurt my son. He's my child."

"And Astoria is my child," she replied angrily, her voice coming out oddly weak as she hadn't realized she had become emotional. "And for some reason I can't fucking seem to get anything right when it comes to my children, and I can't protect them, I can't protect them from the nightmare I brought them into. My son-"

"The boy was a disgusting blood traitor. Nothing to do about that, and absolutely no reason to still address him as your own. It's degrading to yourself and to your family to keep claiming a blood traitor as your own."

"Speak of _my son_ that way again," she said softly, feeling herself burn with fury and protectiveness. "I dare you."

Joseph blinked at her like she was stupid, shaking his head. "The boy was a blood traitor," he repeated, though without the rest of the offenses this time of course.

"Oh no!" She cried dramatically. "Not a blood traitor! Anything but that, they're horrible! Filthy! Not us though, of course. We are pure. Clean. Aren't we, Joseph?"

"Mmm."

"Pure," she said again. "Though I feel so filthy with sin I can't seem to comprehend the thought of being clean."

"Sin," he scoffed oddly. "A religious concept, no? Have you left your old witch ideals behind, Freya?"

Freya ignored him, her gaze becoming unfocused. "We pride ourselves on being pure, being the best, yet here we are. At the top. _Miserable_. We're all fucking miserable. Yet they, the 'filthy', are out there living well enough to attract our own to their side. Why? Because they aren't miserable like us, but somehow we are still shocked when people on our side wish to leave, but is it truly shocking?"

"Dangerous thoughts you're having. I'd be worried about such words falling into the wrong ears," he told her stiffly, watching her intently.

"And I suppose your ears are the right ones?"

"No. Which is why I'm not sure why you're saying the things you are, as well as addressing the boy as if he's still yours."

As if he was still hers.

As if the child she had birthed could ever not be her own, the child she raised, the child that somehow came out good and decent.

"And of the children that are mine? The ones who I showed my love to by closing my eyes and covering my ears to all of the disgusting-" She cut off, controlling her voice. "I'm just as fucking terrible as every person that ever wronged me, that ever wronged the people around me, that ever wronged anyone with our terrible ways that we for some reason accept under the excuse of _purity_. I'm just as terrible as every person I absolutely despised growing up. No, 'the boy' made the best decision he could have ever made, and if he could make it again I hope he would. I hope he would make the decision to get far away from this, us, _me_ again. I could have stopped him, as he was still there when I got to him after my husband left with Astoria. Crying, hesitating. Crying because he was scared, hesitating because he didn't want to abandon me or his sisters. But I wouldn't even look at him and I told him to leave, told him not to not come back. I made him believe he was dead to me before he actually left because I wanted him to get out. He deserved to get out. Now go ahead and expose my little confession, Joseph. Do you think you can do much worse to my life? I just told my little girl that if she looked pretty enough maybe her husband wouldn't beat her as hard. What," she broke off again, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes. She pressed her fingers against the sides of her head in frustration and bewilderment. "What kind of fucking mother says that? Leaves her daughter alone with that? Please. Expose me. Put me out of my misery, because I am so fucking tired, Nott. But wait, it wouldn't matter. Nothing would change, as my husband would never allow any sort of scandal to fall over the family. You would just fall yourself for attempting to expose me, and I would still remain. Stuck."

She heard him sigh and saw him reach for her in her blurred vision, reminding her of what he used to be to her. She tilted her head, offering him a hand. "Go on and touch me, darling. Aldrich has made sure our magical binding is quite strong, and he will know immediately."

Joseph dropped his hand and stepped away. Freya laughed through her tears. "Don't worry about your precious little boy, Joseph. I haven't seen my husband in a couple weeks anyway. Oh and," she held out her hands in a presenting manner, looking around the empty mansion before dropping them at her sides. "Enjoy the top, enjoy your purity. I can tell by the shadows on your face and the coldness in your eyes that you're very, very happy."

With that, she was gone from his home before he could say anything else.

* * *

 

Draco sat on the edge of his bed, grinding his teeth relentlessly as he fought to control the rage that coursed through him.

Nott had won.

He had _touched_ his wife, that he knew for sure, and surely it was more than just a simple touch as Draco had not made many efforts to strengthen their bonds enough to recognize the smaller things.

She had allowed him to touch her, he knew that as well. She had wanted him to touch her. She loved him.

Draco felt a fresh wave of fury wash over him as he sneered the words in his head.

Love.

She was a stupid, unfaithful whore who had no right to be in his home and no right to bear his name. She wasn't good enough for him.

He wasn't good enough for her.

Hurt filled him now, pushing the anger aside though not replacing it. He had been trying, he had been trying and yet again he had found himself not good enough. Not even for his own wife.

He cursed himself for never actually changing the wards to force her prisoner in the Manor. He had thought it unsafe in case she was ever trapped when he wasn't there should someone actually manage to get into the home. He had trusted her not to actually attempt to leave to check his claims of imprisonment.  
He obviously had put his trusts in the wrong person.

He felt a bitterness for his mother, forcing this girl on him, pushing him to attempt to care for her, care for the woman who had just cheated on him with his friend.

Friend. Nott wasn't his friend, but he had been around him enough to be near as much. Despite the fact they did not favor each other, this still felt like a betrayal on his part as well.

He thought of her confession of love to Nott again, thought of their kissing again, thought of their exchanges again. He couldn't handle them, they tormented him.

The way she had attacked Nott that night had made him aware of her feelings. She was so angry, angry in her passion. It wasn't hatred, it wasn't dismissal as it should have been. If she had truly hated Nott over taking her memories she would have left through room and allowed Draco to handle it. No, she was angry that he left her, not just that he had taken from her mind against her will. She was angry that he had left her to marry Draco, who she did not love.

Actually, based on her memories she didn't like Draco at all, but she had always favored Nott, hadn't she? Yet she had married him, used him for his name, just as he always knew. That was all he was to her, and all he would ever be.

Draco shouldn't have left her alone in the first place after the scene with Nott, but he was too disgusted, too furious to stay there any longer. He didn't want to hurt her in his show of temper, and in return she hurt him in the worst way.

Now he did want to hurt her. He wanted to leave his room and truly harm her, make her cry for forgiveness. He wouldn't forgive her, not after this. He also knew that violence wouldn't truly hurt her anyway, as physical pain only hurt so much. He also knew that the sight of her weakened him, and he doubted he'd get very far in revenge if he tried to face her. The sweetness of her face contrasted what she really was, and the appearance of innocence made him weak.

No, if it wasn't him she wanted then fine. She didn't have to have anyone.

She could have her loneliness that she feared so much.


	29. Chapter 29

Daphne was examining the clothing Olena Pucey had brought her along to purchase earlier in the day for the parties she was expected to be present for. They certainly went to a lot of parties as well as put them on for seemingly no reason or purpose, and Daphne was a bit nervous for this. As much as she acted like she was bored with the events her family frequented, she wasn't ready to change settings completely. She was used to the rules and organization, and she knew very well the type of festivities the Pucey family put on were most definitely not organized.

It was time for someone to come along and call _her_ boring, as opposed to Astoria.

Olena had been much more pleasant than Daphne had expected. Her mother had complained about her before, but her mother complained about everyone so she wasn't sure why she had taken her mother's opinion into consideration. Olena seemed.. Genuine. Genuine and excited to get to know her as her daughter-in-law, and she had made an effort to make her feel at home. It seemed Adrian's parents weren't planning on moving out for a while and Daphne didn't mind as his home had more than enough room and Olena made her feel feel more comfortable. Olena was also quite patient, and didn't belittle her when she asked a lot of questions about everything and their circle. She actually found her accent charming, and she wondered how often Olena traveled home to the Ukraine.

Replacing Olena as the next Mrs. Pucey of the family was another matter. Daphne was not nearly as bubbly and flashy as her, and she carried herself much more audaciously than Daphne was taught too. Not to mention her style was.. Very revealing. Her own mother definitely wasn't the most modest, but she still stuck to the guidelines of appropriate.

Surely if Daphne wasn't the best at being traditional and proper, she could excel at this role?

No, apparently not. It seemed she wouldn't be good at anything.

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. She smiled slightly, thinking about how it annoyed her mother to have her hair down all the time. It was her little weak show of "rebellion".

She definitely was never rebellious enough for _this_ to be within her element.

Adrian had been gone all day, as he had been the day before. He had given her space which she appreciated, and she had spent the past couple of days with his mother. He went to bed much later than her, but she had woken up to him next to her. However, she had put a pillow between them, which he had not tried to move. Even with the pillow between them it was still a very intimate feeling to be sleeping in the same bed as a man. She didn't want to admit to herself that she liked it quite a bit, and Adrian was definitely not a hard man to look at as soon as she woke up.

They hadn't had sex, but she knew that would have to change soon seeing that was the only way for their marriage bonds to set in properly.

She hoped he would be there before she had to go down to join the party his family was putting on tonight, though knowing her luck he wouldn't be.

Later in the evening, Daphne recognized that he would in fact not be there in time to accompany her downstairs into the loud groups of mostly strangers.

Daphne let out a frustrated breath and turned to look at herself in the mirror, biting her lip in discomfort at the unfamiliar look of her. The dress was incredibly short as well as sleeveless and covered in flashy, sequined beading. It was definitely a _party_ outfit, though nothing suited for the parties she had attended. She did her hair neatly, much similarly to how Astoria would do hers, just to feel a bit more like herself. She examined her dark makeup once more before leaving Adrian's bedroom to find Olena waiting for her.

"Oh it is very good, very good!" She exclaimed, the long beaded tassels on her dress bouncing as she clapped happily. "Beautiful girl, yes. Now come, We have to go down. Adrian will come whenever he decides," she continued, rolling her eyes at the comment about her son as she dragged Daphne towards the doors that separated the section of the house that remained untouched by the party goers. "Impossible to control him."

Once they were entering the actual crowd of people, Daphne realized she was actually dressed quite modestly in contrast to some of these women. These women were completely unfamiliar to her. Instead of fake smiles they had incredibly suggestive looks on their faces as they came much too close to the men around them, drinking and laughing on the upper level of the grand room of the mansion. Daphne was suddenly deafened by the suffocatingly loud sounds of the music and mingling.

The amount of noise was something out of her father's nightmares.

Her eyes scanned the array of people, taking in more and more as she tried to focus her ears on her husband's mother next to her. The atmosphere of everything was so out of her comfort level that she imagined her face looked absolutely pitiful in how unprepared she was.

Daphne tried her best to greet some of the people Olena was presenting her to with grace and her wits about her, but she was sure she was doing a shit job, and she was unable to comprehend barely any of the words being said to her. She almost stumbled back in shock when both the men and women she met actually touched her, grabbed her to kiss her face, laughing and nodding appreciatively as they looked her up and down. She watched in alarm as Olena herself touched and got much too close to men who were not her husband, being far too enthusiastic towards them.

She found herself eventually separated from Olena and then she truly felt completely out of place, lost. She realized that as the evening grew later, everything only got louder, the overwhelming atmosphere thicker.

She had _not_ been groomed for this lifestyle.

Oh, why had she had to make such silly little mistakes to be thrown to the other side of the pure-blood world? If only she had kept her head down and done exactly what she was meant to she could be like her sister, bored, but at least in her comfort zone.

When she made her way down the stairs hoping to find it a bit less cramped and loud on the wide floor below, she realized she had been extremely wrong. Younger witches and wizards replaced the older of the floor above, and the only underlying aura from moments before was now dense in the air.

Sex.

Sex now accompanied most of the usual senses she recognized from the pure-blood events she was used to. Money, power, pride, elitism were to be expected, but this form of lust was not a quality that she was used to being so forward in such a public display.

Everyone was so close to each other, dancing freely against each other with no certain steps or proper movement, and the women pressed themselves against the men shamelessly as smirks and sultriness danced across their faces.

Daphne was staring at a woman dancing between two men when she felt a hand on the small of her back, causing her to whirl around and spot the faintly familiar offender: Terence Higgs.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Finally someone she remembered from Hogwarts.

"Daphne Greengrass," he grinned before giving her an apologetic frown. "I say Greengrass because you definitely aren't filling your role as a Pucey very well, I'm afraid."

"Yes well," she replied, attempting to make her voice loud enough for him to hear, grimacing as she glanced around them. "Forgive me, but I was not prepared for such.. Ridiculousness."

"Ridiculousness," he repeated, laughing. "Oh, love. I'm sure you grew up walking with books atop your head, some would find _that_ ridiculous. Well, you at least look as if you grew up that way right now."

Daphne scowled, disregarding his comment. "You're Adrian's friend, right?"

"Adrian has a lot of friends," he replied, giving her a knowing look. "Though most of which are not from our years at Hogwarts you will find."

She nodded, looking around at all the people again that she didn't barely recognize any of. "I wasn't aware the pure-blood world was this large around here," she commented.

"It isn't," he replied simply, examining the people attending as well.  
"What?" She asked, giving him a suspicious look.

"Come on, Greengrass. You know what your stick-in-everyone's-arse side says about us," he told her, amused. "I could probably find Tracey Davis for you if you'd like. I've seen her around here a couple of times."

Daphne was distracted from his mention of her friend when her eyes caught a man pouring the contents of a small vial of an odd colored potion into an eager girl's mouth before kissing her eagerly.

"Right. That's another thing. Don't take anything from anyone, especially the muggle drugs, especially from Adrian's _friends_."

"Muggle drugs," she repeated, looking up at him with distaste in her mouth. "Yes, I've heard that your lot is attracted to muggle drugs."

"My lot? You mean your husband?"

Daphne stared at him for a while, letting that sink in before she shook her head. What had she been put into? She noticed a group of men eyeing her, all of them in darker dress than the rest, all of them hungry looking.

"Ukrainians. More of Adrian's friends. _Definitely_ take nothing from them."

Daphne took a step closer to Terence, feeling put off by their stares.

Terence laughed and moved their position so he was standing between her and the onlooking men, much to Daphne's appreciation. "I wouldn't worry too much, pet. Adrian may seem laid back, but he does not take kindly to his friends acting.. Unfriend-like. You're well protected."

Daphne nodded in response, though she was a bit doubtful. She couldn't picture Adrian being at all combative or aggressive.

"The women you may have to worry about," Terence said pointedly just as a gorgeous redhead walked passed her line of sight, her heavily made-up eyes traveling down Daphne's form, looking unimpressed and a bit angry. Her hips swung as she walked, and she tossed her hair behind her as she snorted at Daphne and met with a group of women.

"No fake formalities here, doll. You may not realize this, but Pucey is quite a sought after name in this community, and the girls are angry. You being so.. Out of place is not helping your case. You're not really showing yourself as worthy, I have to be honest."

"Worthy?" She demanded. "Oh and acting like a whore would make me worthy I suppose?"

What on _earth_? She was a Greengrass for fuck's sake, she barely recognized any of these women glaring at her! Who were they to deem her _unworthy_ when they were nobodies?

Terence tsked, his eyes dancing in his amusement. "It's more than that. Besides, weren't you thrown over to this side because you were deemed a whore by yours? They have expectations just as you, but they have to work to stand out, be desirable. You're.. Very attractive, don't get me wrong, but you're stiff. You're also too skinny, and you look as if you're disgusted by everyone here."

"Because I am," she said flatly.

"Exactly! Work on that. I'm not sure what favor the Puceys were doing your parents-"

"Favor!" She exclaimed, extremely offended now. "Are you joking?"

"Yes, yes. Your blood is good, I get it. But if you fit, you can get away with only decent blood occasionally. Blood is important, but there are definitely other things to be considered, and you simply don't fit."

Daphne felt herself visibly tire and her shoulders fall, feeling defeated. She was never good enough for anything or anyone it seemed, even this absolute nonsense.

"Aw, don't do that," he said, grimacing. "I'm sorry. You'll get it. Like I said, you're gorgeous. Besides, Adrian needed someone to slow him down. Just lighten up, alright?"

Daphne pressed her lips together, nodding. "It seems to require absolutely no skill to 'fit' when it comes to these women. It can't be very hard. I was prepared for much less.. Glamorous."

"Glamorous," he mused. "Perhaps it looks that way, though not so glamorous when you find a loved one on the ground dead from their own addiction becoming out of control. Not such a glamorous sight, I'll tell you that much."

Daphne swallowed, comprehending his words as a dark feeling fell over her. She wondered how some of these people functioned outside of this setting, some seemed so chaotic, she couldn't imagine them doing anything else.

Well, wasn't that what everyone sneered about them in her own circle? That this was all they knew how to do?

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly when two girls kissed each other in a show for the men watching them and she turned her head away, scandalized.

Terence began to laugh at her, grabbing a glass of champagne from one of the servants that passed them as he pulled something from his pocket. "I'll go and try to find your friend for you, alright?" He tossed something small and white into his mouth, following it with a large drink from the glass he had just picked up before stopping, holding his hand out to offer her what he had just swallowed.

Daphne gave him a hard look, remembering his advice. Terence winked at her and walked away, disappearing into the mass of people. She wished him back, feeling incredibly vulnerable once more as she was left alone.

This was certainly her payback for calling Astoria boring for so many years.

She felt light hands slide up her back and a small girl walked around her, short black hair bouncing above her shoulders as she beamed at her.

Why was everyone so _touchy_ here? She was sure she had been touched in this night more than she ever had in her whole life.

"Hello, gorgeous," she purred, resting her hands on Daphne's shoulders as she looked her up and down. "You're so tense! Aren't you Adrian's new wife? Oh, you must be _so_ nervous!"

Daphne assessed the girl, allowing her hands on her as she tried to decide if she was being malicious or not. "I'm not really used to.. This type of setting," she told her, watching her tilt her head back and forth in her curiousness.

The girl giggled, tugging a strand of hair from Daphne's updo before twisting it in her finger next to Daphne's face. "Don't worry, I understand! Don't pay any attention to the girls giving you nasty looks. They're just so jealous!"

She watched the girl cautiously, taking in the wild look in her eye.

"I can help you loosen up," she told her, her voice light and innocent.

She pulled away from her, turning to grab something before returning with a small glass. "Here. Take a shot," she urged her, offering her the small glass of liquid.

"What is it," Daphne said suspiciously, eyeing it.

"It's only alcohol!" She insisted, nodding. "Trust me."

"Daphne." She recognized her old friend's concerned voice and she turned to find Tracey approaching them. "Don't drink that."

The girl in front of her pouted, tossing the liquid back down her throat herself. "Half-blood, oh silly half-blood. I was only helping her," she cooed before running a hand up Tracey's arm and smirking. "Do you need help?"

"No, I don't. Thanks," Tracey quipped before pulling away from the girls hand to hug Daphne.

Daphne hugged her back tightly, relieved to see her friend after such a long time. They had gone their separate ways after Hogwarts, as with everything from the war had been messy, and they weren't from the same circle. Of course they weren't; Tracey was not a pure-blood.

"You look good," Tracey told her, fighting the giggle that escaped her anyway.

Daphne gave her a dull look, crossing her arms before taking in Tracey's own revealing outfit. "And you look like the rest of these sluts."

Tracey scowled playfully. "Don't be in a bad mood, Daph. I have missed you," she told her, the last of the sentence coming out sincere and with a small amount of emotion.

Daphne sighed and nodded. "I missed you too, and you have no idea how relieved I am to see you," she murmured, though her words were lost in the booming loudness of the room.

Daphne's head throbbed as she realized the volume of the environment again and she felt herself go a bit dizzy, her focus fading from Tracey who faintly informed her she'd be right back as she left to dance with a man she didn't recognize.

Too much, too fast.

She felt an arm snake around her shoulders and she jumped away, her senses snapping back to her. "No, no more touching!" She exclaimed, fed up from all of the grabbing.

Adrian held up his hands in surrender, stepping away from her.

She practically sobbed at the sight of her husband, moving towards him and grabbing his arm to move it back behind her shoulders. "No, _you_ can touch me, and make sure nobody else does."

"I'm really feeling the love tonight, beautiful."

"You're late!" She cried, glaring at him half heartedly as she was too relieved to give him a proper angry reaction.

"I'm sorry, dove. There was a situation with your cute little group of friends. Why are you down here? Why did you leave my mother?" He grimaced, tightening his arm around her shoulders as he scanned the people around them.

"I lost her. I came down here because I thought it would be quieter," she explained before scowling around them. "I was wrong."

"Here. Eat something. You look ready to pass out," he told her, pushing some sort of pastry in her mouth after grabbing it from a tray.

Daphne chewed it after shoving his hand away, swallowing it cautiously.

"As if I'm going to give you anything like that," he snorted. "You already can't handle simply _being_ here."

"Someone just attempted to give me something suspicious," she told him, nodding towards the direction of the girl irritably. "Forgive me for being worried."

"Ah. Yes, that's my friend. Better not take anything she gives you."

Daphne glared fiercely at him. "Everyone is your friend it seems."

"Not everyone," he said evenly, looking around the room. "Did anyone else try anything with you?"

"No. I saw Terence Higgs."

Adrian paused, assessing her face. "Did you take anything from him?"

"No," she said, irritable that this was such a common occurrence to him. "He told me not to take anything from anyone. Especially your beloved friends."

Adrian smirked, nodding in appreciation. "Good man," he said, satisfied.

"This is _terrible_ ," she grit out after taking in her surroundings again, feeling herself become emotional now that Adrian was there.

" _This_ ," he said, motioning in front of him. "Is yours. This is your home. This is your future, Mrs. Pucey."

Daphne stilled, letting that sink in. This was her life now, this would be where she would raise their children, this is what she would have to deal with constantly, this is what she would have to host _herself_ , and attend other people's as well.

"I.. I'm not," she said slowly, pressing a palm to her forehead. "Adrian your parents should have not allowed me to be your wife."

Adrian took her hand from her forehead, pulling her closer to him. "Debatable. You look quite good next to me, I believe. Just relax. It's your first night of all of this, and I should have been here. Besides, what's done is done. We're married and that won't change. Let's just make the best of it. I'm friends with Malfoy, and I _have_ been to some of your own events. I know this isn't what you're used to."

"At least I know I'm handling this better than Astoria would," she grumbled, trying not to show him how much she appreciated his words, appreciated him as a whole really, despite the situation she was upset with.

"Right. Astoria. I need to talk to you about her, love," he told her, taking a small glass from the same table the girl had gotten hers from, draining it.

* * *

Edric watched his Pensieve late in the night, his eyes tired as he solemnly watched the memories of his mother.

"Mother," Daphne exclaimed running to her mother, very young, tears spilling from her eyes.

Edric watched from the corner of the family library as he sat with his book, a bit out of sight.

"What is it, Daphne?" Freya asked her, looking up from her own book to frown at her daughter's tears.

"Uncle.. He touched me here," she told her, her voice shaky, touching her stomach to show her where before wiping her eyes with one hand. "He said that I was ugly, and that no one would want to touch me unless I ate less."

"Then eat less, darling. You shouldn't question your uncle," Freya said stiffly, looking at Daphne's stomach where her hand had been, her face slightly hard.

Daphne's tears resumed and her shoulders shook. "But.. But mother do you think I'm ugly?"

"No," Freya said smoothly. "You're not ugly to me, but you still should take into consideration the weight you have gained, and if you're ugly to one man I'd imagine you're ugly to others."

Edric looked away from his sister as she began to cry freely now, nodding obediently to her mother before excusing herself after Freya had told her to stop crying so much and to be stronger than that.

Freya was still for a while before tears gathered in her own green eyes that matched her daughter's as she stared at the spot Daphne had left. Edric watched his mother carefully, concern and alarm in his eyes as she began crying to herself.

"I'm sorry," she expressed softly to no one, her voice broken.

The Pensieve changed scenes to the next memory Edric had added, the view changing to Edric standing frozen still outside, his father dragging his sister away from him.

His eyes were filling with tears and his body shook as his wide eyes followed his father's retreating figure.

"Mum," he croaked, desperation in his voice as his mother came into view.

Freya's expression was incredibly cold as she walked to follow her husband, her steps calm. She didn't look at her son as he watched her with pleading eyes.

"Leave, Edric. Don't come back. You aren't wanted," she told him, her voice completely void of emotion, still not looking at him as she left to her husband, leaving Edric there to cry alone.

Edric stood up straight as the memory ended, closing his eyes as old wounds broke open from the memory. He shouldn't be looking at these, he was only torturing himself. His mother had shocked him in that moment. He knew she could be cold, but he had believed her to love him more than that. He hadn't left yet, hadn't fully decided, but his mother had already decided she didn't want him anymore before he could change his mind.

She wouldn't even look at him.

He didn't know which reaction hurt him more from the women of his family. Astoria's, his mother's, and now Daphne's. They all haunted him, buried themselves deep into his mind to burden him with guilt. He had affected his family so much from who he had chosen to be in love with, Astoria especially. Had he not have left, perhaps she wouldn't have ended up with Malfoy, someone terribly unsuited for the Astoria he remembered.

But she wasn't the Astoria he remembered.

She had changed, that was evident in the photo he had seen of her next to her new husband after she had been married to Malfoy. Her face had been polite, her appearance extremely perfect, unreal looking as she held Malfoy's arm. His sister was beautiful and everything she was meant to be, but her eyes were not filled with the same life he remembered, and she herself was not anything he thought she would grow up to be.

He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly before pulling a new memory from his head, not wishing to go to bed. He would wake his wife if he did and she would see his emotion, and he was much too tired of being the reason for the unhappiness of the women in his life.


	30. Chapter 30

"What about Astoria?" Daphne asked Adrian, tilting her head curiously as she attempted to ignore whatever he just put in his mouth.

"I'll tell you upstairs. Come on," he told her, moving to guide her through the dancing as well as incredibly intoxicated groups of people.

Daphne caught some of the comments about her, all about how she definitely didn't look like Adrian's wife, how it wasn't too late for them to get divorced, how he didn't even seem interested in her, how he deserved better.

Better? And they thought _themselves_ better?

Daphne narrowed her eyes slightly before taking Adrian's tie to pull him down, suddenly feeling quite bold. She kissed him as he raised his eyebrows at her, marking him publicly as hers in front of the envious women complaining about her.

Jealous bitches.

Daphne stiffened slightly when she was caught off guard by the realization of her own brave move. She had not kissed her husband until then, and she wasn't sure what to do with herself now. She noticed herself blush when she felt his lips curl in amusement against hers but she persisted, determined to seem confident and intentional as she pushed her other hand up his chest and into his hair. His hands moved around her waist to pull her close to him, kissing her back slowly and she found her back arching as his angle over her forced her head back as he towered over her. She could taste the mixture of alcohol and the unidentifiable potion in his mouth as his tongue slid against hers and she felt a touch of warmth spread through her before she dropped his tie and pulled away, turning towards the stairs to wait for him to escort her up.

"Like I said, feeling the love tonight. Knew you'd come around, pet," he commented, grinning as he placed a hand on her lower back to lead her up the steps. "I'm pretty irresistible, I know, but your restraint these past days has been impressive."

Daphne rolled her eyes, throwing him a withering look over her shoulder. Insufferable man.

Though she couldn't deny how good that kiss was, ugh.

Adrian held his hand up in apologies to all of the people who tried to greet him, making them wait for him as he took Daphne back to the quiet section of the house that was protected from the noise by silencing charms. Once the door was closed, the silence was nearly as loud as the music in comparison. She blinked, leaning back against him slightly as she recovered herself, hearing him chuckle behind her as he urged her to his bedroom.

Their bedroom she supposed.

"That was much, much too loud. Honestly, why is that necessary? Are the people who attend your parties deaf? _I'm_ nearly deaf after that! And! It was so.. Shameless. Everyone rutting against each other like animals. And the women.. Kissing each other," she expressed her disgust, shuddering. "I cannot believe I'm called a slut when there are women such as that openly acting in such a way."

Adrian snorted loudly. "You're called a slut because Malfoy was a prick and didn't have a conscience. You should have made better choices of who to shag in empty classrooms, love," he told her, grinning as he stepped away and looked her up and down. "I wouldn't have tattled on you."

Daphne looked away from him at the mention of what she had done with Draco, what she had done with him being basically her downfall. She tried to act like she didn't care, tried to tell herself that she didn't care, but she absolutely cared and she regretted what she had done painfully so. Just a small mistake, a mistake that didn't count as a mistake when men did it, had cost her so much pride and had offered her up to so much criticism. "Are you going to taunt me over that as well? Do you think I'm a slut?"

Adrian gave her an incredulous look before scoffing. "A slut? I think you've proved tonight that you're almost more innocent than a newborn. Let's not get ahead of yourself pet, having sex once in your school years in an hour of rebellion doesn't make you this night prowling minx."

"Doesn't it bother you that another man has had me before you will?" She asked, grabbing onto her arm as she felt strangely exposed, still not looking at him.

"Man? I wouldn't count Malfoy a _man_ in what? Fifth year? Come on, you're giving him too much credit. Nah, I don't give a shit given the fact that once I've had you you won't even be able to remember his name. Or yours for that matter."

Daphne flushed, scowling at the floor in embarrassment at his words before turning away from him, not wanting him to see how red she was. She felt his hand on her arm as he urged her to turn back around to look at him and she complied reluctantly, still feeling shame at the topic they were discussing.

"I don't think you're a slut, Daphne," he told her sincerely, his voice lacking it's usual playfulness. "No one here thinks you're a slut either. You don't have to feel so ashamed over that, not here. Not with me. I'm sorry that you're worried about that, truly, but you might as well stop worrying. There is no reason to."

Daphne let his words register as she looked back at his warm eyes, only finding honesty in them. She nodded slowly, feeling tears forming as she felt an enormous cloud of weight on her shoulders dissolve quite instantly. She didn't have to impress those people anymore, those people who would always hold that mistake against her no matter what she did to take it back. She didn't have to care anymore. She could let it go.

Again, she found herself being embraced by her husband in a show of comfort.

"Thank you," she told him quietly, enjoying the warmth of his arms around her.

"Don't give me credit for simply not being a twat. Thank me when I do something actually great. Thank me for being the sexiest man to ever grace your eyes. That's what I deserve gratitude for."

Daphne shook her head and pulled away from him, giving him a look.

"Actually, you could thank me by kissing me again. That was cute."

"Cute," she muttered. "Sod off, Pucey."

Adrian pouted, dropping himself on his bed. "Did you kiss me only to shut those girls up? Aw, I thought it was because you actually _fancied_ me."

"I kissed you because you're mine and they needed reminding," she quipped, taking her hair down.

"So possessive," he tsked. "Yet we have to sleep like this." He grabbed the pillow that stayed between them at night from under the blankets and held it up.

"I've always slept like that. I like something to grab onto. Besides, I don't want you getting any ideas while I'm sleeping."  
"First of all, as your husband you should be grabbing onto _me._ Second of all, if I truly got any ideas couldn't I just, I don't know, move the fucking pillow? Honestly if I felt like molesting you your little shield wouldn't do much to stop me. As you should know by now, I don't have a kink for touching women against their will."

"What were you going to tell me about Astoria?" She asked him, changing the subject.

"Yes! Thank you for reminding me. Well, it's not completely clear to me, but I'm going to tell you what I've connected. So, your father's lovely Pensieve assisted me in my claim that Astoria was rumored to have performed the Cruciatus during her fifth year, and that she ran straight into lovely Theodore Nott's arms shortly after. Which apparently she had no recollection of whatsoever," he started, seeming slightly animated in the fact he had such gossip in hand.

"Yes.. I did hear that.." Daphne said slowly, recalling her seventh year that had been a messy blur due to all of the havoc that was upon Hogwarts that year. "Theo _was_ around quite a bit actually."

"Getting to that, treacle. Patience. Anyway, as I was saying before my story was interrupted, after that happened Nott looked guilty as shit. I'm assuming that Malfoy got into his head, you know as he recently has been obsessed with Legilimency, and then Malfoy was thoroughly pissed. Beyond pissed actually, I've never seen him more angry. They started attacking each other, which I enjoyed to a point because I've never been a huge fan of Nott, but eh. They seemed close to killing each other so Zabini and I put a stop to it. Then," Adrian paused, looking at her as he became slightly more serious. "Your sister came up, disturbingly upset, and began attacking Nott herself. Relentlessly. He didn't fight back, but she was in a complete fit, yelling about how he messed with her head and whatnot. Malfoy left when she started doing that, I'm not sure why. I most certainly wouldn't leave you in a situation like that, but it's always a wonder why Malfoy does the shit that he does. I grabbed your sister and took her wand because she was really going in on Nott and I don't hate him quite that much. She was hysterical. Blaise helped Nott apparate out of there. She was a thorough mess, Daphne. It was quite sad actually. She cut herself with her ring. As far as I can tell from the mess that that was is that she was fucking around with Nott at Hogwarts, he obliviated her for whatever fucking arsehole reason he had, and now it's come to light to both her and Draco."

Daphne stared at him, not knowing where to start in the story he just so bluntly told. Rage crept through her and she felt her chest puff out in her angry breaths as she thought of Nott messing with her baby sister who always just kept to herself, not ever trying to get herself into trouble. She had asked Nott to stay and make sure she was okay during that day Astoria was meant to practice the unforgivable curse, and he had done much more than that. He had taken advantage of her.

"I'll fucking kill Nott," she hissed, her eyes scanning back and forth angrily as she shook her head. "I'll _kill_ him."

"I second that, gorgeous. I told her she ought to come home with me, as I don't trust Malfoy alone with her when he's that angry, but she refused."

Daphne's anger was interrupted with affection for Adrian at his talk of protecting her sister. It seems he would keep surprising her with his kindness. "I need to see her. I need to know everything. Now," she said firmly, looking around for a cloak to cover herself.

"Ah.. Right. Well. I received a note from Malfoy about that actually. He said.." Adrian said slowly, seeming to proceed with caution. "He said you've been removed from the wards and to not attempt to come to the Manor, as you will not be able to."

Daphne stopped, shock filling her. "He.. What?"

Adrian nodded in response, watching her. "He's a prick. Not much more to it."

"He's.. This is his punishment? Blocking her off from me and everyone? It wasn't her fault!" She cried, her hands coming up to the sides of her head in her stress for her little sister. She hated being alone. "She needs me."

"Well.. I mean. I did linger behind for a bit, to see her alright. She stood there for a long time, calming herself down I guess. Again, disturbing and sad. Then she left. And.. I have a guess of where she went."

* * *

"Alright. I'm fed up with the antics of this class. I'll be choosing your partners," the Astronomy professor announced irritably, eyeing the groups of Slytherins with accusing eyes.

Ophelia frowned, looking to her best friend reluctantly. The Slytherins were the ones causing most of the problems, as the Ravenclaws were much more interested in getting their work done.

"I have a great idea. Raise your hand if you're a muggle-born," their professor quipped.

Ophelia's heart sank as she glanced over at the disgusted faces of a large majority of the Slytherins. Why on earth would a professor subject their students to this?

She raised her hand slowly, tilting her chin up slightly to not seem ashamed of who she was. She wasn't ashamed, but some of the cold stares from the Slytherins could make someone believe they ought to be.

Their professor began to group them by blood status, and she found herself next to Edric Greengrass, an extremely attractive boy who many girls of every house loved to coo over. She nodded to him cautiously, feeling shy but determined not to show it. He returned her nod with a polite one of his own, his face appearing neutral as he paid attention to the professor. Oh, he was very intimidating. His politeness made her even more apprehensive of him as she couldn't read how he was actually feeling.

Perhaps he wasn't prejudice?

Nonsense, of course he was prejudice. She knew he came from one of the most prestigious pure-blood families according to her best friend's prattling. Even still, even if he didn't care about blood, she knew he cared about wealth and she was poor, quite poor.

No, she would not let this uppity rich boy make her feel inferior simply just standing there with his overly confident posture and crisp robes. She would not. She was raised better than that.

"Right. All settled in? Great. Partners will remain for the rest of the year. Work amongst yourselves now."

Protests filled the class and Ophelia couldn't hold back her own sound of dismay, looking to Violet in disappointment. This class would be much harder not having her friend to work through it with.

"Please. Don't hold back how you really feel," her partner commented, his deep voice lilting with a certain sureness and charm as his sarcasm to her came out lighthearted.

She looked up at him in a slight embarrassment, her eyes meeting his oddly light ones that contrasted against his dark features loudly. The boy was much too gorgeous for his own good.

For her own good.

After class, Violet grabbed her and dragged her away from the classroom and down the stairs, her eyes bright with something mischievous. "Edric Greengrass! Could you have landed a more delicious partner or no?"

Ophelia's eyes widened in alarm at how loud her friend was, glancing back to find Edric and the other Slytherins a fair distance away. "Will you keep your voice down," she hissed to her friend, shoving her gently as she glared at her. "Honestly, what is the matter with you?"

"Relax! They can't hear! I'm so jealous. He's _so_ fit and just gives off that bad, rich boy vibe."

"Bad, rich boy vibe," Ophelia repeated dully. "You've always had the most poetic way with words, Vy. Besides, of course you think this is all fun and games. You're a pure-blood."

"Not to his type I'm not, but yes a lot of the Slytherins aren't repulsed by my imaginary blood quality, but I'm still a blood-traitor. Unfortunately my partner is much less dreamy. Actually, he's a half-blood. Professor gave all of the best pure-bloods to the muggle-borns. Well played, eh?"

"Not well played at all. It was humiliating," Ophelia sighed, shaking her head.

"Come on, lighten up, he wasn't rude was he?"

"No.. He was just quiet. And polite," she told her, thinking of how reserved and formal he was.

"Ooooh mysterious," Violet purred. "Love it. You two should hook up."

"Oh my god. You are so ridiculous sometimes. He has only been my partner for one class, he no doubt looks at me as if I belong below his overpriced shoes, and he barely spoke to me at all and you're suggesting we hook up? Stop it. You're not nearly as funny as you think you are."

"Imagine how bad and wild you'd feel," she went on, grinning. "Seducing an elite pure-blood male. You could hook up with him, expose him for shagging a muggle-born, and really wreak havoc on his life."

"What?" She asked her friend in disbelief. "Why would I have any interest in doing that?"

Violet shrugged, pulling a piece of licorice from her pocket. "You said yourself he probably sees you as if you belong beneath his feet. Why have good intentions?"

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Ophelia replied, rolling her eyes. "It's a very common notion. You should be familiar."

"Hey, I'm a firm believer in treating others how they me. Besides," she broke off to wink at her. "I was almost sorted into Slytherin, you know."

"Well, I was _not_ almost sorted into Slytherin. All I wish to do is get through my classes and not mess around with men who don't care about me. Look at the type of girls he's into anyway," she told her friend, lowering her voice as Edric passed them and a beautiful brunette girl, Charlotte Blythe, who appeared perfectly kept and poised joined the group he was walking with. "Definitely not me."

"Oh please. They're not fucking. They're most likely engaged, and girls who _marry_ guys like that have their snatches practically sewn up until their wedding night. It's part of being pure, my dear."

As classes passed, Edric stayed just as quiet and formal. She also noted how incredibly charming he was with the professor, who seemed quite impressed with him herself. She itched with curiosity about him, wondering what he was was beneath his show of politeness. She almost wished he'd just be nasty to her, that way she could get over this interest in him that came with a strong sense of attraction.

They were outside, weeks later, out on the grass a bit far from the castle after class to get a start on their project as soon as possible. He was a rather hard worker, which she appreciated, and he seemed very serious about his classes. Well, she supposed since he chose to take Astronomy in sixth year when it wasn't required it wasn't that much of a surprise.

"Why are you taking Astronomy?" She asked him after a while, her voice coming out awkward and obviously nervous. She had the strong desire to roll her eyes at herself.

"Why are you so unsure of yourself when asking me a simple question?" He replied, raising an amused eyebrow without looking up from his notes.

She opened her mouth to respond then paused, caught off guard by his response. "Because you're intimidating and rather attractive," she told him finally, letting out a breath. "And I'm a muggle-born and I fear your judgement."

"Honest of you," he said, frowning in an impressed manner.  
"Well. It's the best policy," she said, half shrugging.

"That is certainly debatable."

"Your turn," she told him, watching him expectantly.

His eyes met hers and she was caught in his gaze like the silly school girl she apparently was. The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement and he nodded. "My mother. She adores Astronomy. It was one of her best subjects, though she did well at everything."

"Oh," she said, frowning curiously. She found it hard to picture a rich, uppity pure-blood woman caring much about education.

"Is that an unusual answer?"

"I just thought wealthy women kept busy looking pretty and spending money pampering themselves," she muttered before closing her eyes, embarrassed by her comment that came out much more rude than she intended.

"Tell that to my mother," he told her, smirking. "I promise you will find yourself no longer breathing."

"Sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to be rude. It's just, that's how it is with the rich from what was brought up with."

"Muggles?"

"Yes.. Muggles," she answered, watching him closely for a reaction of disgust.

"Perhaps you're wrong about them as well."

"I don't think so. What about that girl? That hangs around you. She seems as though she will never have to work for anything in her life and never has."

"Which girl, love?" He asked, his eyes quite smug now as he continued to take his notes.

Why was he getting cocky now?

Oh. Because she seemed jealous.

The way he had addressed her as "love".. That was a new one. That was a good one.

She blushed, scowling. She hadn't meant to come off that way. "The one with the brown hair. The one who looks so perfect that she seems fake."

"Charlotte."

She knew her name, she didn't know why she had been acting as if she didn't. He certainly made her act strange around him, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Mhm. Yes, I guess," she said, shivering at the breeze picking up. It was getting late and becoming very cold.

"I assure you, the girls in my circle work much harder than you imagine. Especially girls like Charlotte. Especially women like my mother. I'd guess much harder than you, no offense intended."

Ophelia narrowed her eyes, offense certainly taken. What could he possibly mean? "They work hard? What, making sure their hair is perfect? That they don't break a nail? Spending money? Yeah, takes so much work to be rich," she scoffed, looking away from him irritably.

"You don't understand and you're bitter. That's alright."

"I'm not bitter it's just hilarious that you think girls like Charlotte Blythe have had to work harder than I have. You don't know anything about me."

"So you do know her name," he replied to her evenly.

Ophelia closed her mouth, looking back to her notes. Both of them were quiet for the rest of their working for the night.

A few classes later, the both of them were outside working late again.

Ophelia paced back and forth, attempting to keep moving as the wind whipped her hair around and froze her nose.

"You were cold last time, and yet you still decided not to wear more to keep warm," Edric commented, his voice slightly edged. "I was under the impression that Ravenclaws were meant to be wise."

"Yes, well. I know. You're right," she answered him, ignoring the comment he made about her house, shivering as she kept moving in front of him.

She stopped when she felt his hand on her arm, firm and steady. "Please, will you hold still?" He asked, his tone clipped.

She frowned, pulling from his grasp though a stupid part of her didn't want to. "Grabbing me defeats the purpose of asking."

"Fine. Hold still," he said instead, his tone slightly commanding as he pulled back to look again at his work.

She let out a short laugh in disbelief. "Excuse me, I-"

"You're stressing me out, moving like that," he cut her off curtly, shrugging out of his thick cloak to hand it to her. "Spare me the lecture, please. I've already run through your little protests at my rudeness in my head. I've got it, love."

Ophelia stared at him in both irritation and surprise. He had never acted this way to her before, and she forced herself to relax at the fact that he must really have an anxious issue with her pacing. She looked at the cloak for a while before taking it hesitantly after weighing her options of rejecting it out of pettiness when she truly was cold.

The cloak was very thick and finely made, as well as very traditional and regal looking as intricate detailing covered the most unnoticeable of places, his family name stitched elegantly in the fabric. She put it on, feeling relieved at the the warmth it provided as well as entranced by his strong scent that suddenly was covering her senses.

"You're welcome," he told her, his voice back to being light and even.

She gave him a look, not thanking him.

Again, they fell into silence as they worked, and she found herself working much nearer to him than she usually did. She studied his handwriting, predictably flawless.

He was flawless.

She pulled at the sleeves of the cloak absentmindedly, impatient with herself. She was never this shallowly infatuated with someone like this. He was the complete opposite of what she looked for in a man, and here she was practically swooning over him like an idiot. Over what? His looks? What was wrong with her?

When they finished working for the night, she moved to remove his cloak to return it, stopping when he spoke to her dismissively as he walked away.

"Keep it."

She was still for a while as she thought of what to make of that before slowly making her way back to the Ravenclaw Common Room, her stomach feeling odd.

"Oh. Fuck. No," she heard Violet's voice as she looked to see her friend slinking from the couch, her eyes flashing as she zeroed in on what Ophelia was wearing.

"Violet-" she began, holding her hands up to her friend to stop her.

"You were _not_ clothed by Edric Greengrass," she hissed, her eyes wild with excitement as she grabbed the fabric of the cloak.

"I was annoying him with how cold I was," she explained dismissively. "Probably told me to keep it because I got my muggle-born germs all over it."

"Or maybe he told you to keep it because he wants his pure-blood germs all over _you_ ," she purred suggestively. "Or perhaps _in_ you."

"You're disgusting," Ophelia told her flatly, pushing her away. "I can't keep this anyway. It probably cost more than all of my belongings put together."

"You most certainly can keep it," she snorted. "He doesn't care how much it cost. Pocket change for him. I know you're just pretending not to be excited. I bet you'll sleep naked in it tonight. Does it smell like money?"

"Goodnight, Violet," she told her dully, pushing passed her friend to go to her dorm.

It was the summer before seventh year and Ophelia was in Flourish and Blotts with her mother, in line as her mother attempted to count out the money she needed for her daughter's books.

She was conveniently in line behind Edric Greengrass, who was standing with what she assumed his little sister in front of him. The child was adorable, straight out of a magazine, and though her hair color was almost the opposite of Edric's her eyes matched his. She tugged at his arm impatiently. "How much longer, Edric? This line is taking _forever_ ," she complained, turning around to scowl up at him, her small mouth pushing out in her pout.

He chuckled and shook his head at her. "It would move faster the less you complained about it, Astoria."

"That's a lie," she grumbled. "It would move just the same."

"Edric," complained another girl who came up to them, blonde like Astoria but with green eyes instead of blue. Another sister. "There are so many mudbloods here," she muttered, scowling at all the obvious muggles.

Ophelia stilled, surprised to hear such a word come from such a beautiful little girl's mouth. She looked up at the back of Edric, waiting for his response.

"Daphne," Astoria started firmly, tilting her chin up to make her appear taller. "We are not to say the _m word_ in public. It is unbecoming."

"And when you aren't in public?" Ophelia blurted out to the little girl, raising her voice so she could hear her/

Edric turned his body slightly to look at her, glancing at her muggle mother beside her who was not paying attention as she went through her purse before looking away, appearing disinterested.

Astoria looked up at her curiously before beaming. "I like your necklace," she announced, motioning to her neck at the only real piece of jewelry she owned before turning back towards her brother.

Yes, that answered her question quite well.

She tried not to feel stung by the proof of Edric's prejudice against muggle-borns. She had known he must be, but witnessing an example of it still hurt just the same. She felt guilty as well as enraged at the shame and embarrassment she felt towards her mother and background at the moment. How dare she allow these people to make her feel in such a way.

She saw an older woman approach, dressed in fine robes and glittering with many spots of jewelry that adorned her, her matching blonde hair to the little girls up in a high and perfect ponytail. At first Ophelia guessed the woman an older sister of Edric, though based on her mannerisms she concluded it was his mother by the way she touched him and addressed him. She proceeded to smile across the store at other couples that nodded to her all while muttering her distastes for them between her grinning teeth to her son.

If the dictionary added pictures this woman would surely be under "trophy wife".

The woman looked to Charlotte Blythe across the store who was with her parents and rolled her eyes, looking to her son distastefully. "How is our darling Charlotte doing. Still as uninteresting as ever?"

"I hate her," Astoria grumbled from below them. "She pretends to like me, but I know she doesn't. She must think I'm stupid."

"I suppose. I can't say I pay too much attention," Edric answered, appearing indifferent.

"Hmm. Her grades?" She mused. Something in her voice made Ophelia think she was hoping for a negative answer.

"She is nearly at the top of her classes as far as I know, mother," he replied.

Ophelia couldn't hold back a snort. "Not hard when you're messing around with a professor in one of the classes you're at the 'top' of," she scoffed, picturing Charlotte cozied up to the young substitute Charms professor.

The woman turned slowly to look at her, her green eyes locking with hers as something nasty flashed in them, a smirk curling her lips.

"Is that so," she breathed, her eyes dragging down Ophelia's body before she turned to look at Charlotte.

"Charlotte, dear. This lovely girl was just telling me some quite unfortunate information," she called worriedly over the store. "Are you becoming intimate with a professor in order to achieve better grades?"

Many of the Slytherins and their families that Ophelia recognized all stopped to zero in on Charlotte who shrunk back slightly, looking back at Mrs. Greengrass in shock as her face flushed a deep red and shame filled her features as she glanced at her parents. "I.. No-"

"That's quite enough, darling. You've given me your answer. Ah, truly unfortunate. It's so easy to fall, isn't it? And fall so fast. Yes, just like that," Edric's mother practically sang back, snapping her fingers in example.

Ophelia was momentarily distracted from the dramatic and unusual scene by her mother murmuring her sad apologies in distress about her lack of money to afford all of the books Ophelia needed for her classes. "It's fine, mum. I'll just find someone to share with. Violet," she muttered back, looking back at toward the pure-bloods.

She met Charlotte's eyes that for a second lost their fear to be replaced with utter hatred as she looked back at Ophelia with murderous, vengeful eyes before her father turned on her, towering over her angrily.

"It seems you've made an enemy," Edric's mother commented to her perkily, her eyes triumphant. "Shame you're not one of us, dear. You play the game well. Astoria, this is the mess your hair would be if you had it your way and didn't allow me to tame it." The woman plucked at Ophelia's hair, looking at her daughter.

Game? What game? She never intended to participate in any type of game, and she certainly did not want to start any feud with Charlotte Blythe of all people! She pulled back from the woman's grabbing, trying to think of a rebuttal to her rudeness about her hair as she stressed over how Charlotte had looked at her.

"Astoria," the woman snapped to her daughter, snatching the piece of candy the child was holding. "How did you get this?"

The little girl crossed her arms over the front of her little dress, scowling. "With my money."

"Money? You don't have money. Give it to me," she replied to her daughter, holding out her hand.

"I do. I found it in Edric's room!"

"So it's _my_ money," Edric said amused, not seeming phased at all with what had just happened with his apparent betrothed.

No longer his betrothed actually, Ophelia assumed. All because of her and her comment during her eavesdropping.

Mrs. Greengrass grabbed the money from her daughter before pausing and turning to Ophelia's own mother who was staring off guiltily, not paying attention to the pure-blood squabbling. She dropped the galleons on the pile of books her mother was holding, tilting her head slightly. "Education is important," she told her mother, the corner of her mouth twitching.

Her mother stared between the money and the woman, processing what was going on. Her face reddened with embarrassment and hurt pride, opening her mouth to protest as she attempted to return the money.

"Now now. You know what they say about falling and pride and what comes first. Here," she told her, winking before covering her eyes with one hand. "I won't look. I'll have no clue if you use it or not. Hurry along, Edric." The woman didn't wait for a response from her mother before she swung around, walking out of the shop with Daphne on her heels.

Ophelia suddenly noticed the group of well dressed young girls whispering and smirking towards Charlotte before eyeing Edric, their gazes full of desire. Ophelia looked to Charlotte who was flinching back from her snarling father, tears falling from her eyes and Ophelia's heart sank. She wasn't fully sure of everything that had happened, but she did know Edric's mother had just gleefully publicly humiliated the girl, and Ophelia feared for her safety based on the violent look in her father's eye.

"You did that," Edric told her as he turned to pay for his books before dropping the rest of the money in his sister's hands as she pouted about the money her mother had taken from her.

"Looks like your future wife is a goner, mate," one of Edric's friends jeered as he came over to him, grinning. "Who's going to take her place now?"

"I suppose we will have to see," Edric replied, smirking as he put a hand on his little sister's shoulder to guide her out of the shop.

"Edric," Ophelia started, concern in her eyes as she looked between his unbothered and smug face and the crying girl who looked as if her life had just been ruined.

"Edric," his friend cooed, mocking her and shoving Edric's shoulder as Edric ignored her and left the shop with his sister and friend, not giving Charlotte a second glance either.

Astoria waved to Charlotte as she left with her brother before blowing a kiss to Ophelia before her brother seemed to scold her and make her look forward.

Ophelia turned to her mother just as she handed the money Mrs. Greengrass had given her to shop worker and Ophelia had never seen a more defeated look on her mother's usually prideful face.

* * *

"Sir," Draco's house-elf told him timidly. "Mrs. Malfoy has stopped eating."

"Mmm," he responded, turning away from the ugly thing dismissively.

"Depressed I think, sir."

"Mmm."

"Mrs. Malfoy did not take news of finishing her studies at home well, sir."

Draco snorted. Of course she hadn't. Of course the little snake wanted to get away from him and find more men to throw herself to at Hogwarts. Unfortunately for her, the Aurors had other ideas given their circumstances, and Draco had informed them of Astoria being too ill to come and agree to their idea themselves.

"What should I do, sir?"

"I don't care. Leave me. If she starves that's her fucking choice," he answered coldly, irritated that his servant was still bothering him about this.

"Sir. She keeps asking about you. I am worried that-"

Draco raised his wand warningly and heard the elf squeak its apologies before leaving him immediately in its fear of punishment.

It had been days since he had left Astoria to her isolation, not allowing her sister to come and see her, and not so much as allowing her to come and communicate with the Aurors when they had come.

He should cheat on her as well.

He ought to strengthen their bonds enough for her to really _feel_ him cheat on her, more so than how he had felt her with Nott. He wanted her to feel every burning touch, every bit of pleasure he gave another woman and another woman gave him.

He just couldn't find the desire to be interested in fucking another woman at the moment. He would have to torture her in that way later, he supposed.

"Those who believe strongly in the old witches use traditional magical marriage bonds as reinforcement for their argument," Blaise drawled to Granger who was seated next to Weasley later that day.

Draco was not sure how they had landed on this topic, but here they were, chatting to Weasley and Granger about marriage.

Weasley grimaced, glancing over at Granger uneasily. "Yeah, I mean. It's a load of rubbish really. What they think. The marriage bonds aren't bad. They're.. Traditional. If you truly love someone they're good for the marriage."

Mmm. At least Weasley was intelligent when it came to something.

Blaise raised a brow, examining Weasley distastefully. "My mother never participates in the marriage bonds. She strongly believes in what you call 'rubbish'."

His mother wouldn't allow marriage bonds because of the fact she murdered her husbands in order to gain their wealth, not simply because of her beliefs.

"If you could explain further, Mr. Zabini," Granger said slowly, looking confused.

Of course she was confused; these were pure-blood matters. She wouldn't know anything about them, despite how many books she attempted to read.

"Oh no, I believe your boyfriend wants to explain this 'rubbish'."

Nott was not there as he usually was, much to Blaise's irritation to be without his other friend. Draco would not be able to stomach him for quite some time, despite the fact they had been Death Eaters together and it would most likely be wise for them to work together in this time.

He was sure his pathetic little wife was up in her room now crying about him, wishing for him, her _love._

"Well," Weasley started. "Some witches, pure-blood witches, believe that in very ancient times witches held the most power. Then, wizards came along, decided they needed to be controlled, tricked them into these bonds, absorbed some of their power and yeah. Basically leashed them in a sense."

"What a horrible explanation," Blaise scoffed, curling his lip at Weasley.

"I asked you to explain first, Zabini," Granger said reasonably, seeming to consider what Weasley had said to her.

"They don't need a proper explanation, Blaise," Draco said, rolling his eyes, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the conversation as well. "It's just women complaining about their roles as wives."

"You think it's rubbish too, Malfoy?" Granger asked him, curiosity in her eyes.

"It's.. A tale some women like to tell," he responded slowly.

"Marriage bonds favor men," Blaise offered. "Men decide how strong the bonds are and they are almost able to control a witch's magic to an extent. Depending on how strong they are, they are able to know where a witch goes, but a witch doesn't necessarily get to know where he goes. They can know how a witch feels, if a witch touches another man, and other things in that sense. However, they can cut off their side completely if they choose because ultimately it's the woman's magic they are manipulating. They are not so easy to strengthen and manipulate, however. It takes time and knowledge, especially if you want them to work a certain way."

"A good son to your male loathing mother you are, Blaise," Draco said dully, slightly surprised at how he spoke of the tradition as if he were against it. Then again, he was raised solely by his mother.

Blaise tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes expressionless. "I'm only giving her an explanation."

"A one sided explanation. The bonds aren't horrible. They are necessary. They can benefit both the man and woman as well, not only the man."  
After the Aurors and Blaise had gone, once Draco had finally gotten to sleep in the early hours of the morning, he was woken by the faint screams coming through the halls.

Again.  
Astoria seemed to have nightmares quite often, and Draco couldn't possibly understand what could be haunting her to this extent. Perhaps she was truly losing her mind being alone as she was.

Draco pulled a pillow over his face, attempting to mask the noise only to inhale her scent from the pillow she had used when she had been sleeping next to him. He threw the pillow across the room irritably, yelling for the house-elf to shut her up. He hadn't been able to sleep thoroughly as he had when she were there, and it drove him absolutely insane that he relied on the girl to get a decent amount of sleep. Now here she was waking him up from only the few hours of sleep he managed to get with her nightmares she didn't deserve to have. What nightmares could she possibly come up with? What had she suffered? She probably found losing her precious love as suffering.

No, she didn't know suffering. She didn't know what nightmares were.

The screams stopped and Draco slowly relaxed from the tense position he had been in. He doubted he would be able to fall asleep now, but he had been avoiding adding a silencing charm to her room due to fact that if there were an attack he would need to hear her.

Why did he care?

He shouldn't care about that, not after what she had done. Not after she had betrayed him. He should throw her out, though he knew if he did that would only expose what had happened and a scandal would fall over his family.

Couldn't have that, could he?

So he was stuck with his cheating wife to torment him with her screams and now apparently depression as well as her refusal to eat. Fuck her for making him give a shit, fuck her for being a pitiful little girl, fuck her for wounding his pride.

Fuck her for begging him to care about her and then hurting him when he finally began to.


	31. Chapter 31

Astoria was lost.

Lost in nothing, emptiness. Who knew that absolutely nothing could be so deep? She had nothing to focus on aside from her own pain, her own longing for someone, _something._ She didn't even long for Theodore at this point, just anything and anyone. She had feared this before, but here she was facing it, and oh how it was even more terrible than she had apprehended.

It hadn't even been that long, and yet she was already drowning. She was touched with dark things now, dark knowings she had shoved aside in her focus on her end goal, on the directions she had followed. Now she was graced with memories she didn't want to remember.

It was so _quiet_.

Excruciatingly quiet, and Draco had made it impossible for her to go outside, and the library was even locked as well. How she wished for his merciless hands instead of this, this punishment was all the worse. She would take pain a million times over being alone, alone to think of nothing but bleak past and future, her future that held _nothing._

She shouldn't have gone to Theodore, she knew that now, knew that then. If she had been in the right head space she knew she never would have. She had cheated on her husband, and she knew Draco had been making an effort to be good to her before she had wronged him. He didn't deserve that. She wanted to blame Theodore for what she had done, but she knew she had no one to blame but herself.

To think how easily it could have gone passed simply kissing..

She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself in her cold bed that she hadn't left in quite sometime. Somehow walking the endlessly long halls made everything seem deeper, colder. She hadn't been getting sleep as she was constantly woken by the house-elf from her nightmares that were filled with nothing but pain when she was actually able to remember them. Just blackness, and pain that she knew was there, but of course couldn't really feel it as they were just dreams. She pushed the nightmares aside as soon as she woke from them, not caring to search for the source of them. They were most likely nothing but a reflection of how she felt now, and pushing her thoughts aside was what she did best, wasn't it?

She had tried to find Draco more than once, but it was clear he was intentionally making himself unavailable to her. Yes, he knew exactly how to be cruel in the way that would hurt her the most.

She had hurt him, that she knew. Perhaps only his pride, but she knew his pride was one of the only things he had. She wanted to apologize, and she truly was sorry. She wanted him to know that. She _did_ care for him, despite Theodore's rejection of the idea, she did. Theodore wouldn't speak for her, and she wouldn't allow him to take over her life more than he already had. She had said goodbye, and she had meant it. Not that they would have had any other choice anyway, as she was married and that was final even if she wished for a divorce. Their world just simply didn't work that way, and everything was far more complicated than affairs and remarriages.

"It was not wise of him to throw the woman out onto the streets. Now everyone is aware of his lack of control over his own wife, the wife being the most simple creature one should be able to keep control of," her father had mused over a pure-blood family, lower than them in status, that had graced their circle's papers over the man of the family throwing his wife, now ex wife, out onto the streets after stripping her of her name and all of her belongings in result of her apparent adultery.

"But she cheated on him, father. Isn't that just as humiliating?" Daphne asked him, cutting into her dinner only to push it around on her plate.

"We wouldn't know that had he not chosen to make it known, now would we?"

"I suppose not," Daphne answered, nodding slowly.

"Precisely. Now he appears more foolish than the woman, who is quite foolish seeing as she is now without a family or funds in the fact that she certainly won't be welcomed back by her parents now that she has humiliated their ability to raise her properly."

Astoria covered her face with her hands at the memory, fearing how her father would think of her once he knew what she had done should her mother tell him or of course should he simply _take_ the information from her.

Draco wouldn't forgive her. She knew that much. He could barely stand her when she hadn't done anything at all to him. He would sleep with other women, and not go near her until he absolutely had to for appearances. He would eventually come to her for sex as she needed to provide him an heir, but that would be the extent of their relationship. She cringed at the thought of being taken by him so coldly, used for sex for only for one reason.

She numbly told the house-elf to let her be when it had offered her something to eat. Her stomach was definitely not up to taking anything at the moment. She didn't even think she could bring herself to sit up to attempt to eat, and the thought of food nauseated her.

She didn't want to do anything, she just wanted everything to end.

What would meet her should she die? No, she certainly didn't want to die, but she couldn't see what exactly she was living for either.

_Please, I'm sorry! Please don't leave me!_

Astoria whimpered and pressed her palms against her forehead, willing the memories back.

_You are not to cry over blood traitors. You have exactly three seconds to silence yourself._

She shuddered, choking on a sob. She screamed her thoughts away, begging them away.

_One._

Her body balled up and she moved her hands to clutch her blankets, pulling them close to her, needing something to busy herself with.

 _Two_.

She tried to hum, but instead using her voice only brought her weeping forward.

_That's three, Astoria._

Draco was watching the Pensieve when Pucey entered his home, expecting him to start arguing about the fact his wife was currently blocked from entering the Manor to see her sister. However, he attempted nothing of the sort as the next memory was brought forth on it's own accord, not provided by Draco himself.

Freya Krat gave her professor a flat look as he ordered her to switch seats with Evelyn Bissette in response to her talking too much to the boys around her.

Joseph Nott nudged her teasingly and smirked. "Off to the back you go, Freya. Don't replace Rhys and I with Greengrass while you're there."

Freya sneered at him before gathering her things and moving to the back of the class to take Evelyn's seat as the witch crossed her on the way to Freya's previous spot, her dark eyes cool as she stared her down irritably.

Freya dropped her things down on table next to Aldrich Greengrass carelessly before sitting down, pulling the hair from her long ponytail through her hand as she looked back at the professor in annoyance as he nodded his approval.

"Are you planning to make more of a mess as the class continues?" Aldrich asked her levelly, his eyes on his work.

Freya looked at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I'm planning on sitting exactly as I always sit, with my things exactly as they always are."

"I see. It's quite interesting the behavior you get away with I have found," he mused. "Careful. Push the boundaries too far and your luck may just run out."

Freya opened her mouth as if to argue but only a short sound came out before she stopped, her mouth slowly closing. Her eyes were wild with alarm and her hand came up to her mouth in confusion. Aldrich looked up from his work to meet her eyes and the corners of his mouth lifted in a small, calm smile.

"My advice to you did not require a response, my love."

The Pensieve's scene faded and shifted, not pausing to clear itself before it was onto the next memory.

The Great Hall was mostly empty of students when Narcissa Black came to sit near the three students she had recently taken up sitting next to.

"Everyone gossips about whether you and Nott are shagging each other, Freya," Rhys Pucey complained as Freya came up to the table. "What about me? I'm also your friend, and Merlin knows I'd be a better time than Nott."

Freya gave him a dramatic sad expression before wrapping an arm around him and sitting in his lap. "You are more than worthy of being rumored to be sleeping with me, Rhys," she told him an almost cooing voice as she put a hand on his cheek, scowling.

"Hey, it doesn't just have to be a rumor," he suggested, winking at her as he held her on her lap.

Joseph rolled his eyes and snorted. "Who gossips that, Pucey? The people you hang around? If that were actual gossip my parents would be mailing me in concern that I've ruined a potential wife."

Narcissa stared at Freya before shaking her head in disbelief. "I cannot believe you're doing that so publicly."

Freya moved her eyes to Narcissa before rolling them. "I know what I can and cannot get away with, Black. I've been in the game for a long time. No one is here. Who is going to report me to the pure-blood authority? Those Hufflepuffs over there across the Great Hall? You? That would just come off as sabotaging out of jealousy. No one would take you seriously."

Narcissa motioned to Joseph, eyeing Freya's lap in her friend's.

"Aw, Joseph," Freya started, sliding off of Rhys and next to Joseph as others began to enter the Great Hall. "You're not going to tell on me, are you?"

"If I was planning to snitch on you I'd have much bigger things to report than you sitting on a man's lap," he chuckled before running a hand through his hair, causing an odd flinch from Freya at his movement.

"Sorry, Black. Seems you're stuck with me as competition for a bit longer," she chirped before taking out a sealed letter to open it at the table, stilling as she read it.

Joseph noticed her tense and snatched the letter from her, smirking as he read. "The Greengrass family interested in you to marry their son? I didn't know you bothered with the Greengrass family, Freya. What _did_ you do in the back of the class with him? You see, Black. She must be doing something right if-" Joseph broke off as he yelped when the letter caught fire and burned into nothing as he dropped it. "For fuck's sake Freya!"

"That was impressive," Rhys said, blinking at the ash on the table. "Why so spooked?"

Freya was silent as she stared forward, looking paled and angry.

"Come on. It's not as if you'll have to marry him. It's too late in the game for that. I don't know why he freaks you out so much anyway. It's not as if he's said to torture kittens before breakfast or anything," Joseph said, examining his hand irritably.

"He's a prick," Rhys snorted. "Loves to kiss up to all of the teachers."

"I spoke to him a couple of weeks ago. He seemed alright to me. He asked me about my sisters," Narcissa mused then frowned curiously. "Though when I told him I was closest to Andromeda he just said 'shame'. Which I thought was a bit odd. Curious man. Everyone knows Bella is the less favorable given her behavior."

This time, the memory had barely begun to fade before it was replaced with another.

Joseph was eyeing Narcissa across the table with a guarded expression as Freya stalked through the doors of the Great Hall, appearing as if he knew something Narcissa didn't. Freya slammed the paper down in front of Narcissa, leaning next to her ear.

"Shame," she hissed the words of Aldrich Greengrass to her before shoving away from the table and leaving the way she came.

"Freya what the fuck," Joseph started as she stalked away, shaking his head before sighing. "Insensitive witch."

Narcissa stared at the paper that revealed Andromeda Black marrying a muggle-born, disowned from the Black family as a result. She began to shake her head slowly as tears filled her eyes, murmuring her denials as tears began to fall.

Lucius Malfoy watched her from further down the tables, his eyes cold as he looked at her. "You can't honestly be upset over a blood traitor," he spat, looking disgusted at her.

"It was her fucking sister, Malfoy," Joseph snapped to him. "She obviously didn't know until now. Have some sense and mind your own bloody business."

"She _is_ my business with how things are appearing, Nott," Lucius replied, narrowing his eyes at him. "Perhaps you ought to mind yours."

"She'll be more of your business when things become more than 'appearing'. Now fuck off."

Narcissa didn't seem to be paying attention to them as she shakily pushed herself up from the table, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold in her sobs as she left the Great Hall.

Draco stared forward as the memory faded, pain for his mother in his chest as an eery feeling toward Greengrass nudged at him.

"Well. Ah. Moving on from that. We should chat, Malfoy," Adrian said after some time of silence.

"I don't have any idea why you would believe we should do that, Pucey," Draco replied, shaking off his feelings toward the memories as he focused on the wizard.

"Because my wife is upset, and unlike you I care about my wife's feelings. I also care about my wife's sister. I know it's hard for you to believe, but some men don't really enjoy seeing women in pain."

"My wife," Draco started, his voice cool. "Decided to cheat on me. She lost any right to happiness when she betrayed our marriage and my name."

Adrian watched him calmly before nodding. "I understand. That's fucked. I get it, but let the punishment fit the crime at least. Did she fuck him?"

"No, she didn't fuck him, but I believe the punishment is less than the crime. I haven't touched her. Haven't even raised my voice to her. Actually, I haven't even spoken to her. So tell me, what punishment do you speak of? She gets to live in a good living arrangement with all of the resources she needs. She can go without speaking to her sister for now."

"She's lonely, Malfoy. Do you understand loneliness?"

Draco snorted loudly at his ridiculous words. Was he sure he was a man? Or was he speaking to Narcissa at the moment? "Loneliness. Are you fucking kidding me, Pucey? What is this?"

"These women are raised to believe they have to make us happy. They're conditioned to want to please us, and you're isolating her from you and everyone. She's seventeen years old, Malfoy. A child. She's only just been married and taken away from her parents and her sister and you refuse to be reasonable. We can't expect perfection from these women until we are perfect ourselves, and we both know damn well you're not perfect, and I know damn well that I'm not perfect. She was in some sort of panic attack. You didn't see her. Maybe if you wouldn't have fucking abandoned her right when she was obviously beside herself she wouldn't have gone to Nott. It's your job as her husband to take care of her. You're acting as if she fucked Nott in your bed. Have you met Nott? He's a fucking arsehole and he's manipulative as well as _older_ than her. _She's seventeen._ At least listen to what she has to say, at least _try._ She made a mistake. How many mistakes have you made?"

"I left because I didn't want to hurt her," Draco snarled, furious with this idiot scolding him of all things for how he treated _his_ wife.

"Right. You left because you can't control your temper. Because you're not perfect. Still, you left, and surprise! Your wife isn't perfect either."

"She's meant to be. It seems she wasn't prepared for the life she signed up for."

With that, the Pensieve was active again, filling the room with its knowledge it wasn't asked for.

Small Freya Krat appeared to be around ten to eleven years old as she walked carefully down the steps of her home, her hair up in a ponytail on her head as it usually was, though her face that was always hard as an adult was fearful and innocent as a child. She paused, jumping slightly when the yelling started, the woman's voice speaking in broken, heavily accented English. Freya quickened her pace down the stairs while seeming to try to make as little noise as possible to not alert anyone of her location before she slipped into a small closet beside the stairs, sinking down the wall, closing her eyes and covering her ears as the shouting grew louder, soon becoming accompanied by sobs.

Tears fell from the small girl's eyes as she held her ears silently, her body shuddering when screams sounded and loud slams as well as the sounds of shattering glass filled the home. Freya began to cry fearfully before she began to count to herself as her parents fought, appearing to be quite familiar with this routine, shaking her head slowly in the dark closet.

Suddenly, it was deathly silent, and the woman's sobs and pleading had ended abruptly. Freya's eyes opened in fear and she clapped a hand over her mouth, forcing herself into silence as she stared forward, eyes wide.

It was quiet for a long time before there was a loud sound of something hitting the ground from outside of the home, and Freya's face went deathly white.

"She's distraught," a man's voice explained from a distance after a large amount of time had passed. "Her mother just died, of course you can understand I'm sure. She's normally quite together. I haven't been able to find her."

Freya's face crumbled into pure sorrow at the man's words, her previously frozen in place hands covering her face as she doubled over, seemingly overcome with pain.

"Freya, my child. Come here please!" The man called loudly.

Freya struggled to hold herself together enough to quietly exit her hiding spot, her mouth being held tightly by her hand as she seemed to be biting into her palm as she slowly moved toward the voices coming from the entrance of the large home as tears streamed freely down her face.

There with her father and brother stood Aurors, two of them, looking quite solemn. "Sweetheart, we only have a few questions for you, and then you can go, alright?" The taller one asked, his face apologetic.

Freya stared at him, still holding her mouth before nodding when she glanced at her father who was looking at her in silent warning.

"Did you see anything when your mother did this? Hear anything before it happened?"

Freya shook her head slowly, her eyes falling to the ground.

"Did she show signs of wanting to end her life?"

Freya shook her head again.

"Did she.. Show any emotional distress?"

"My daughter just lost her mother," Mr. Krat said again, his eyes tight as well as slightly red. "Freya, tell them how she was."

Freya looked at her father, staring at him tearfully before turning shakily to the Aurors. "S-She was always d-drinking.." She said slowly, her eyes falling to the floor again.

"So she was an alcoholic," the Auror said gently, taking notes.

"She was. Terribly so. Fell down the stairs earlier today. I tried to correct her of the habit, but it is not an easy task."

"You appear to have been drinking yourself, Mr. Krat," the other Auror commented to him, regarding him with a slightly cool expression.

"Ah.. My wife just jumped off the balcony," the man replied tightly and the other Auror gave his partner a look.

"Of course, Mr. Krat. We're almost finished. My dear, where are these from?" He asked, taking her wrist gently to examine the bruises on her arm.

Freya looked up at the Auror before glancing at both her father and brother, her brother narrowing his eyes at her in a threatening manner.

"She was a-always d-d-drinking," she repeated again, not looking at the man as she spoke to him, her voice breaking off in a quiet sob as she pulled her arm away from the Auror to hold herself.

"I see," he said slowly before nodding and writing again. "Mr. Krat, if your wife was abusing your children why would you not report her?"

"It only just began," he said smoothly. "I was hoping to help her before it reached that point."

"May I go?" Freya whimpered to the Auror quietly, still not looking up.

Once she was excused, Freya numbly left them to stumble up the steps and down the halls to shut herself into a woman's bedroom. She sank into the bed that was unmade, curling into the blankets as she began to sob uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. "I'm sorry, mama," she cried out, burying her face into a pillow near her to muffle her sounds. "I know it wasn't you. I-I know you wouldn't leave me.. P-Please come back.. I didn't tell them. I didn't tell them the truth. Forgive me." The memory faded as the girl began to weep, speaking to the mother that wasn't there now in German rather than English.

Draco's stomach rolled as yet another memory filled the room, not knowing if he could take another.

"Something tells me she was dead before she hit the ground," Mr. Greengrass mused to his wife as Freya walked passed them and into the crowd of adults, standing tall and well kept, her posture flawless as she seemed unfazed by the man's comment.

"Freya, darling. I heard what happened with your mother," Mrs. Nott said gently, her eyes sympathetic. "I'm so, so sorry."

Freya smiled back at her, nodding her greeting. "Hello, Mrs. Nott. You look very lovely tonight. Yes, it's quite sad. I suppose she wasn't prepared for the life she signed up for."

Mrs. Nott exchanged a look with her husband for a moment before looking down at the girl again. "Yes, well I do hope you're alright, dear. You're welcome to come and see me anytime you would like if you need. At least until your father remarries."

"I'm quite alright," Freya replied confidently, nodding reassuringly. "I am always alright. Thank you so much for your offer. You're much too kind."

Once away from the adults, Freya went to sit herself down on a bench, watching the crowd of people as her face stayed eerily neutral.

Young Joseph Nott came to sit beside her, watching her cautiously before looking out at the people. "That's your brother, right?" He asked, his voice sounding put off as he looked towards the older boy who was laughing and seemingly unbothered with his friends. "He seems like a prick. I mean, your mother just-"

"I'm going to kill him one day," Freya said clearly, cutting him off as she tilted her head thoughtfully.

Joseph's eyes snapped to hers in alarm, searching her face in surprise. "What?"

Freya turned to look at Joseph before her eyes squinted slightly. "You're not going to tell on me, are you?"

Joseph watched her for a while before shaking his head. "No. You're not serious though, right?"

"Good," Freya said brightly, not answering his question before jumping to her feet. "See you at Hogwarts. I'm sure we will be sorted into the same house."

When the Pensieve cleared both Draco and Adrian were silent for a long time, both looking quite ill as neither of them knew what to say in response to what they had seen.

Adrian stood, shaking his head over and over. "No," he said, his tone disgusted. "No, I've stomached enough for today. For a whole lifetime actually. Your lot, Malfoy.. You people are something else."

Draco watched him as he prepared to leave, not knowing quite how to respond to that. He definitely couldn't argue.

"Talk to your fucking wife, Malfoy. I'm not putting up with my Daphne being hurt over your petty tantrum," Pucey said sharply, his voice unsettled before he laughed in disbelief. "Not prepared for the life they signed up for," he muttered, repeating what both Draco and Freya had said. "I just.. Fuck this."

* * *

 

He was in her Astronomy class again, Edric, and once more they were partners. Ophelia deflated slightly when she learned of this, going to stand by him once again reluctantly as their professor prattled on. Witnessing his family had made her even more insecure to be in his presence as well as offended for her mother after his had so mockingly tossed her child's candy money at her as if she were a beggar on the street.

"Miss Hale, it says here that your original name is Clarke," the professor announced curiously and Ophelia felt an irritation for the woman nag at her.

"Yes. Clarke is my father's name. I don't go by that name," she responded clearly, not knowing why on earth it was relevant to anything they were learning.

"Clarke.. Could that be from the famous wealthy family that live in London? That own all of those wineries?"

Ophelia stared at her, her face burning slightly as her irritation turned to both anger and embarrassment. "I.. I believe so, professor. Yes."

"Oh! Lovely! Which one? I know there are a couple of men in that family."

"I don't know his first name. I never knew him." Lies. She knew his first name. He was the eldest brother of the family.

"Pity.. Hmm.." The professor went on, looking up at the sky as she went into thought.

"You didn't know him," a Slytherin girl repeated, eyeing her with an unimpressed expression. "So what? Does that mean you're a bastard?"

Ophelia's jaw tightened before she regarded the Slytherin girl coldly. "Yes, that means I'm a bastard," she replied, her voice flat.

"What's worse?" Violet said from further up in the class, looking at the girl. "A bastard or a product of cousin incest?"

"Fifteen points from both Slytherin and Ravenclaw for unnecessary terms," the professor said, though not sounding fully interested.

"Hard to think of muggles having _famous_ names," the Slytherin girl snorted.

"Nonsense. Muggles have competitions of social status and ladders just as witches and wizards do," their teacher replied dismissively. "The Clarke family is one of the wealthiest in London."

"Can't tell from the looks of her," the girl quipped.

"As I said," Ophelia said through gritted teeth, more than humiliated by now. Why was their teacher allowing this? Was she that dense? "I didn't know my father. I don't go by his name. I _obviously_ am not connected to his money or status in any sort of sense."

"And why not?"

Ophelia threw her hands into the air. "Muggles have competitions of social status just as witches and wizards do," she ground out in exasperation, repeating the professor's words.

"You idiot," a Slytherin boy near the girl said dully. "She's saying her daddy fucked someone he shouldn't have and ended up with an accident that no one can know about out or else his reputation would be tarnished."

The girl giggled. "So she's not wanted by us _or_ the muggles. How pitiful."

Ophelia took a step back, her eyes becoming unfocused as she felt as if she might cry in her shame, shame that the whole classroom was witnessing.

"Thirty points from Slytherin," the professor said dismissively before opening her mouth, looking as if she may speak about the subject more.

"Professor," Edric began smoothly, stepping forward slightly and Ophelia was blocked from view of the Slytherin girl who had been mocking her. "Excuse me for interrupting, but I'm a bit lost on the chapter. May we please go over the end of it again?"

Their teacher clapped her hands together animatedly. "Of course! Thank you for speaking up, Mr. Greengrass!" She began enthusiastically going through what Ophelia knew very well Edric understood.

She looked down, still feeling herself burning with humiliation as the teacher went on, wanting to leave. No, she couldn't leave. That would only be further embarrassment and it would make that Slytherin girl think she had gotten the better of her, that she had actually hurt her.

Once the professor had dismissed them to work among themselves, Edric was quiet for a while, and he hadn't even looked at her through the whole previous debacle. Ophelia was grateful he seemed to ignore what had happened as well as the fact he had taken the attention off of her on purpose.

How he confused her.

She followed him from the tower and down to the grass to the spot they usually studied at after class and she sat down, pulling her robes more tightly around her.

"I believe I gifted you something to help you with the weather," he commented, standing beside where she sat.

"I forgot it," she mumbled, thinking of the cloak's location in her dorm room. It was the warmest piece of clothing she owned, but she felt too shy to bring it out in front of him.

"You don't get to keep this one," he said, handing her the one he was wearing which was just as luxurious feeling as well as thick but varied slightly in design and color. "My mother is rather fond of it."

She looked at it for a few moments before taking it and draping it over her shoulders, attempting to not get it all over the grass beneath her.

"Thank you," she told him sincerely, meaning more than just the extra warmth he had given her.

"She's an idiot."

"The professor or your fellow housemate?" She muttered bitterly, looking down.

"Both."

"Thank you," she said again, feeling emotion creep up her throat.

No, she would _not_ cry here in front of this boy. She refused.

Edric sat down beside her on the grass, adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves as he got himself situated and pulled out his notes.

"You said before that I didn't know anything about you," he said after a while and she looked up to meet his thoughtful eyes. "Tell me."


	32. Chapter 32

Draco's face was slick with sweat when he was awoken from his sleep, the pregnant muggle-born's screams transitioning to Astoria's as his mind adjusted to reality.

How he just needed some bloody sleep.

Draco grit his teeth, rubbing a hand over his sweaty face before shifting off of his bed, snapping to the house-elf that he would tend to his wife instead of it, sneering at the way the elf's eyes lit up in hope.

He paused at the door to her bedroom, his hand resting on the handle as he closed his eyes, preparing himself as the sounds of her nightmare were now much closer to his ears. He could already feel the cold wall he had put up just for her begin to form cracks. He opened the door, stepping into his wife's bedroom to find her in her bed, the pitiful sight she was.

He felt his chest tighten as he took in the small, frightened girl on the bed, curling desperately into the sheets that were tangled around her, clinging to the sweat on her body.

"Astoria," he said loudly through clenched teeth, his gaze moving to her eyes as he waited for them to open.

The deep rings under her eyes surpassed his own, and he wondered how that were even possible given how little rest he managed to get for himself. The rings looked alarmingly wrong on her normally well rested and unflawed, porcelain face, and her cheeks were void of their regular natural color as well as slightly hollowed in result of her lack of eating. Her hair that was usually so well kept was a mess around the frame of her face as it seemingly fell out of a very half-hearted braid she had put into her hair who knows how long ago.

Still, she was still breathtakingly beautiful to him, as well as far too innocent for his sanity to handle.

A child.

When Astoria didn't wake the second time he called her name, he moved forward in frustration to put a hand on her arm, shaking her awake as he said her name again.

Her eyes snapped open as she woke wildly, grabbing his arm in alarm as she searched the room blindly as her eyes adjusted. He pulled his arm away roughly but she caught his fingers with her small hand, her other hand joining in assistance to hold him in place. He looked from her hands to her big eyes, now staring back at his.

"Draco," she said pleadingly, her voice slightly raspy. He wasn't sure if that was a result of her crying, screaming, or from simply lack of use.

He did know that it added cracks to his wall.

He pulled his hand away from her weak hold, brushing his hand on the fabric of the pants he slept in. "You woke me. You keep waking me," he told her shortly.

Her hands dropped to the bed as her body leaned forward as she caught her weight on them, looking down. "I didn't mean to. Please let me talk to you," she whimpered.

"I don't wish to speak to you. I only want your silence."

Astoria's shoulders fell even lower than they already were and she reached up a hand to wipe her eyes shakily. "I took the potion.. I guess it didn't work.. I-I can't remember.."

Draco shook his head and turned. "I suppose I will have to put silencing charms on your room then," he said coldly, the words feeling wrong as they left his mouth.

Which is why he had to turn from her to speak them.

"Please don't leave me." Her voice was barely a whisper, the small amounts of her voice in her quiet pleading broken.

Draco closed his eyes, focusing his wall, forcing it to stand strong. "I will allow your sister back soon enough if it will help you to look less of a hideous mess and allow me rest."

"No.. I-I want you. I don't want _you_ to leave."

Fuck this.

Draco left the bedroom, slamming the door on his way out, wincing when he heard her sobs.

It was silent for the next couple of nights, surprisingly enough, but still sleep would not come to him for more than an hour at a time, his own nightmares not allowing it.

He was staring at his puzzle box in the dark hours of the morning when he heard her again and he closed his eyes as he struggled with himself.

He just wanted some sleep.

When he entered her bedroom this time he picked her up, sighing inwardly at how she felt even lighter than before, and carried her back to his own. Her arms wrapping around his neck as he walked and she calmed in his arms, clinging to him desperately in her less than half woken state. He tried to harden himself as he winced at her vulnerability. Yes, his wall was definitely in danger of the beginnings of crumbling. He dropped her down on his bed, moving to his own side where she immediately curled up to his arm and he pulled it away, pushing a pillow at her.

"Sleep. Don't touch me," he muttered coolly to her as her tired eyes fluttered only momentarily before her face was buried in the pillow to rest.

What was he doing, allowing her back into his bed? _Bringing_ her back to his bed?

How he was weak, much too weak for his own good.

Draco laid down beside her, putting more than enough distance between them as he rested his head, becoming conscious of her slightly uneven breaths as she was fresh from crying. Closing his eyes, the sleep he had been missing somehow came to him, as in some way the girl always gifted that to him.

It was dark when Astoria opened her eyes, and she was not in her room.

She was not in her room.

She sat up quickly, grimacing immediately at the dizziness and head pain that came over her in result of her sitting up faster than she had in quite some time. She looked around as her eyes adjusted, breathing deeply to inhale the familiar scents of the bed she was in. A small amount of joy filled her as she comprehended her surroundings, as well as surprise.

He had shown her mercy.

She was in silence again, alone, but now she had some hope to cling to at his show of compassion. He was much less horrible than he tried to make himself to be, much less horrible than the men she had heard of could be.

The smell of food touched her nose and she looked next to her at the tray of soup and bread, frowning at the note there with scrawled but still elegant handwriting.

"Eat."

She sighed and took the tray from the bedside table, setting it in her lap. Ah.. Eating in bed. What would her mother say?

The food was still warm when she began to eat it, and she wondered when it had been put there. She was relieved not to have the house-elf down her throat, it had been starting to really kill her always nagging at her when she just wanted it to go away. Especially when she suddenly had the urge to begin talking with it. She would truly consider herself insane if she had made friends with the servant.

She had finished the food much quicker than she had expected herself to, realizing exactly how hungry she was. It was odd how quickly she seemed to regain her senses, and she stared down at her hair, slightly horrified at how her appearance must look. She looked to his bathroom door, not sure exactly what she was allowed to do now that he had allowed her to sleep in his bed, surely just to shut her up for the night. Why hadn't he just silenced her room as he suggested he would?

It didn't matter, what mattered was that she was finally seeing a bit of progress, a bit of light in the darkness.

She decided if he was telling her to eat then he'd allow her to use his shower. She didn't want to go use her own in fear of being locked out again, and to her relief he had not returned by the time she had finished and she called for the house-elf to bring her her things.

Apparently she had slept through the day as well, and the darkness in the room was a result of the fact that it was already the next night.

He had allowed her to stay that long..

She sat back on the bed, not knowing what else to do as she waited for his return. She didn't feel like she could very well make herself at home as if things were back to normal, she knew things were far from being back to normal. Things would never be back to the way they were again. That was fine, as long as things were more than what they had been when she was isolated.

Her mind wandered to Theodore, wondering what he would make of this situation. Her heart twinged and she shook the thoughts of him off. He was in her past, and she had to leave him there. Especially in this time when she was finally back in her husband's bedroom.

At least she knew she was more than capable of leaving her loved ones in the past.

She was drifting again when Draco entered the room and she sat up to attention quickly, watching him carefully and waiting for him to speak before she did.

He took a bit to look at her, removing his cloak and taking his time before he turned to her, his grey eyes exceptionally cool on hers before they traveled down her body slowly to assess her state.

"You look less like a corpse, but still not as you should."

Astoria nodded her agreement, smoothing her hair down self-consciously. "I know. I am sorry I am not nearly as presentable as I'm meant to be. I don't know why I'm so weak.." She said quietly, her voice off from what she was used to. She looked down as she felt embarrassed now at how she allowed herself to become so beside herself.

"Mmm. I can come up with a few other choice words to describe you as well as weak."

She winced, forcing herself to look at him before she spoke, though she hated how exposed she felt to his resentful expression. "Draco, I _swear_ to you that I never, ever would have done what I did under normal circumstances. I swear to you with everything I can possibly offer that I will never even think of doing anything like that again. I'm so sorry. I know I wronged you horribly, and I really wish I could take it back.. But I can't," her voice broke as she struggled to get her apology out, having gone over it more than a dozen times already. "I can't take it back, but I'm still committed to being your wife, and I would do anything to prove that to you. I just don't want us to live our lives so apart.. I need you."

"You need me," he repeated, his voice laced with venom along with something else she couldn't place.

Astoria nodded, watching him nervously.

Draco chuckled softly, walking towards her and she stilled, her breath catching as fear swam up her throat. "Interesting. You claim to need me, your husband, and yet you _love_ another man," he said darkly, sneering the word love.

"I didn't know I did.. I wish I didn't. I don't want to, and I will stop. I want to love you. I care about you. Please, Draco. I don't know what to do about this.. I'm lost in it all," she told him weakly, feeling tears fill her eyes as she watched him approach her.

He grabbed her face painfully hard, his fingers digging into her jaw as he stared into her eyes and they practically rattled as they searched hers intently before he pushed her slowly back by the grip on her face, forcing her head all the way down, flattening her on the bed beneath him. Astoria's heart sank when she felt him in her head, pulling forward the memory of when she went to Theodore, when she had wronged him.

He began to chuckle again when he was finished, the sound low and quiet in the back of his throat and she watched his eyes flash madly, sending a paralyzing chill to spread through her in fear. His hand trailed from her jaw to her throat, his careful fingers wrapping around it slowly before pressure was applied, challenging her air passage. She didn't move, didn't fight him as she looked up at him in apprehension.

"Are you his as he says you are, Astoria? Have you always been his? Mmm?"

She tried to shake her head under his grip, but she could barely move.

"No? Who, darling? Who do you belong to?" He asked, his voice silken and light, covering his fury.

"You," she managed to get out, struggling to gather air for her lungs.

"Mmm. Me. You belong to me. My property," he practically cooed before his eyes became even darker.

She moved her head the slight amount it was able to nod in response, her heels digging nervously into the bed.

"Every time I touch you now you'll only ever be able to think of him, according to Nott," he mused, a strange touch of smile touching his lips. "Is that what he thinks?"

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she only stared at him.

"Is that what you think, love?" He asked, chuckling again.

She moved her head side to side slowly and the hold on her throat loosened, allowing her to breathe much easier.

"You want me, you said?"

She nodded and he narrowed his eyes slightly and he shook his head. "Use your words."

"Yes, I want you, Draco," she breathed, her eyes large as she watched him, waiting for his next move.

His hand moved from her neck to the nightgown she wore, ripping the fabric down the middle to tear it off her. He took her wrists and pinned them up above her head, trailing his wand down the length of her arm and down her ribcage that was now bare to him.

She shivered at her sudden nakedness and tried not to flinch as the tip of his wand warmed to an uncomfortable temperature as it skimmed down her body as he tore her undergarments from her as well, sliding his wand across her her hipbone and pressing it there lightly, causing her to bite her lip at the heat before he dragged it to her naval.

She kept her arms above her head, fully aware of his silent order when he had pinned them in place, something telling her it would be become much harder to keep them there as the moments went on. Her teeth dug into her lip painfully as he began to swirl his wand against her skin, feeling as if he was almost cutting into her. She looked down to see that he was etching words into her skin magically, but she was not bleeding as her skin was marked. He leaned down to run his lips against the burning inscription and the pain was instantly soothed, pulsing into something warm and pleasurable and she watched the marks fade into nothing, her skin unflawed once more. His wand moved up between her breasts, repeating the process there and she struggled to keep quiet at the pain as well as the pleasure that came second when he corrected it. As he moved across her body, carving magical letters into her in different spots all across her she finally was able to focus on one long enough to make out the words before they were gone.

_Property of Draco Malfoy._

She whimpered as he moved to the inside of her thigh. This time he was slower and the words felt much deeper and hotter, more torturous. Her leg jerked but he caught it, holding it in place firmly. He didn't remove the pain or the etching after he was finished, and her thigh burned terribly. She clasped her thighs together only to flinch and pull them apart when she found that that only made it worse. Draco flipped her onto her stomach to begin her back in which he created the largest and deepest loops of letters, working agonizingly slowly as he intentionally wanted her to feel every curve of his hand down to her toes. She muffled her cry with the pillow under her face, squirming down into the bed to try and distance herself from his wand. She heard him murmuring now, but didn't really care about his utterings as she did the tormenting of her flesh. She felt a hand on the burning of her inner thigh and hummed in response as the pain there left her, becoming replaced with something sweet, sensual. Instinctively she pressed her thigh against his hand. She shuddered a sigh when his mouth traced the offending words in her back, his tongue gracing the pain and a small moan of both relief and need left her lips. He turned her over again, glancing up at her arms that were still above her head then down to her expression before tilting his head slightly.

"Now allow another man with ill intentions to touch you, Astoria. I have to dare you."

He hovered his wand over her and every area he had branded her seared her all at once. She cried out loudly as her skin lit up in searing agony before grinding her teeth together, squeezing her eyes shut and turning onto her side to curl in on her self slightly, her arms still above her. With one finger he pressed against the hip that was raised as she was turned to one side, urging her back down flat and she reluctantly complied, her body squirming in extreme discomfort. She arched her back off of the bed to escape the sheets that burned her more, and her thighs parted as she struggled to keep her skin from touching anything. She opened her mouth to pant slightly before biting her lip again, waiting for him to soothe her, needing it.

"That's a good girl," he purred darkly. "You've never looked more in place."

She looked at him pleadingly before she arched her back higher, desperate for it to stop. She watched him slowly undress himself, infuriatingly taking his time and she wanted to scream at him. How he wanted her to suffer. She was not sure what sort of magic this was, but she knew there were plenty of dark books in his library he could have gotten many ideas from.

She had closed her eyes when she felt his body slide against hers and she moaned loudly in great relief as his skin cooled hers instantly, his hand sliding underneath her to calm her back before it came up find her hair that she had uncharacteristically left down. Her arms came around his shoulders needily and he pulled back to force them back above her head.

"No. You have not earned the right to touch me."

A small sound of protest left her throat and he fisted her hair again, his face coming close to hers and his breath fanned her face.

"Tell me who you belong to," he commanded her, gathering her hair tightly in his hand enough for her to wince.

"You, Draco."

"Mmm." His hips pushed down into hers and he slid inside her easily as he dragged his teeth down her neck, biting and sucking at her flesh there, seemingly marking her has much as he could in this night. She was feeling quite dizzied by now. "Tell me who you want."

"You, Draco." Her whimpered words were cut off by a choking sound when he pulled his hips back to slam into her.

She shuddered, sucking in breath after the impact before digging her fingers into the bedding above her, her chest and stomach rising and falling dramatically beneath him. He kissed her now, hard and punishing, his teeth nipping her lower lip sharply enough that she tasted blood as she moved her mouth back against his, becoming a submissive, melted mess of nothing under is dominant mouth and body.

_His._

His hips moved slowly to grind into hers again from where he was deeply connected to her and his mouth stole her sounds of pleasure. His lips pulled from hers, her lip left stinging from his small assault, and his mouth pressed closed to her ear.  
"Tell me who you're thinking about," he breathed against her ear, his tone chillingly sweet as he continued to roll his hips at an angle just right, too right.

How could she possibly be thinking of anything else?

"Y-You, D-" She was cut off before she could finish as he began to drive into her relentlessly, taking her breath away at his roughness as he pounded into her small and weak frame.

When she finally was able to breathe out again her breath came with a shaky sobbing sound as he didn't let up, her body overwhelmed with such intense sensations that she had to focus strength on not pushing him away as it was nearly too much for her. She felt his name leave her mouth again in a cry and she brought her hands down to hold onto him, unable to keep them in place any longer and he didn't stop his near attack on her body as she half expected him to and she dug her fingers into his skin, eliciting a hiss from him. Her head swam and her sounds became too incoherent to her ears to even describe them and she could only cling to him as he truly finished her, only slowing when he was decidedly finished himself.

Her head was rolling to one side when she felt her magic pull around her and she looked up to Draco whose unfocused eyes were on her, his mind seemingly focused elsewhere. She closed her eyes and relaxed her magic to allow his to connect with hers, feeling an odd lifting feeling as their magic pulsated between each other. She was too weak to do much to participate, not that she needed to, and she allowed him to fuss with their bonds as he pleased, enjoying the new sensations of it as her other sensations were still fading and made for an incredibly sated feeling.

They felt different when he was finished, their dynamics, dully different, and Astoria was curious to what he had managed. Marriage bonds were said to be more to be experienced rather than explained. She definitely wasn't able to coherently experience them now.

She didn't move when he got off of her, laying beside her in their silence, her body and mind already lulling off. She was surprised he had allowed her as much pleasure as he had and wondered if he had planned on that or if it had been an accident.

"I don't forgive you, Astoria, but I wish to sleep."

* * *

 

Freya jumped when she heard the steps in the safe home they were residing in and relaxed slightly when she felt it her husband, not turning from her side on the bed as she heard him undress on the other side of it. She turned finally when she felt the bed mood as he joined her, sliding her arm around his waist.

"You've been gone," she commented, looking up at his face that showed no signs of where he'd been.

"Indeed."

She moved to rest her head on his chest, always having a battle of mixed feelings towards his presence.

"You've missed me it seems," he observed, his hand coming to rest on her braided head, stroking it slightly.

"Nobody likes to be alone, Aldrich," she sighed, tightening her hold around his waist.

"You left. Where? I was not able to pay much attention at the time."

"Malfoy Manor. I met with Rhys to finish with the documents for Daphne, and then again to check on Daphne. She wasn't there as I expected. I suppose she's doing better than I anticipated with the Pucey boy," she explained, hoping he wouldn't prod further.

"We mustn't underestimate the girl too much. She is still our child," he replied thoughtfully. "Though it does not please me to think of her settling in with the Pucey family of all families."

"I'm worried about both of them staying in their homes that way. Astoria especially," Freya said, hoping to get the topic far away from where she had gone. "I cannot believe Draco is staying there, holding his ground. Narcissa and Lucius are both hiding. He should as well."

"Based on the pattern of attacks it's Daphne we should be more concerned about, no?"

"Perhaps," Freya said slowly. "I just hope their security is strong."

"They will be fine. You told me the Aurors are constantly floating about, and Draco is not as much of an idiot as he once was as well as being," Aldrich paused, his eyebrow twitching slightly as a knowing look crossed his features. "considerably more _curious_. Adrian, as unbearable as I find that family, I know is a rather talented wizard himself from what I have heard. Our daughters are safe. I wouldn't allow otherwise."

"I know you wouldn't," she replied, wrapping her leg around his waist to straddle him. "I may go mad with boredom the next time you decide to leave me alone for such a long time with no where to go."

Amusement touched Aldrich's eyes and he rested his hands on her hips. "You and I both know you went mad long ago, my pet."

Freya's chest tightened and she tilted her head, "Mad is a woman such as Bellatrix Lestrange. I am nothing like the sort."

"That is debatable."

Freya felt her eyes narrow slightly at her husband. "Don't insult me."

"I would argue that one loses sanity once they attempt death. I feel I have every right to insult you, or say anything I please really, seeing as I'm the reason you're alive."

"I didn't ask you to be the reason, and I didn't ask to be alive," she replied softly, his face blurring in her vision as it became unfocused when the memories came back to her as if they were only days ago.

"Mmm. Yet my statement still stands. As well as the other. Yes, you truly did want to die. Which means your sanity already had."


	33. Chapter 33

“What did Draco say? Did you convince him? Is he going to let me see her?” Daphne asked Adrian as soon as he returned back to their home and his eyes widened and he held up his hands. 

“Woah there, treacle. Let me breathe for a moment, yeah?” 

She glared impatiently, crossing her arms. 

Adrian made a show of sucking in a few breaths as he leaned a hand on the canopy rail of his bed, crossing one leg over the other. 

“Are you serious,” she demanded flatly, narrowing his eyes at him. 

He held up a finger, giving her a warning look. “The more you nag the slower I want to take my breaths.” 

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and tapped her foot anxiously, the desire to strangle him growing stronger. He thought he was so funny, didn’t he? 

“Draco was a prick as always, but I think I got into his head a bit. Saw some things in that Pensieve that were a _smidge_ heavy for my tastes, but it was insightful all the same. I think he will let you back eventually, dove, but give it time. He pissed me off, really. I don’t know how I’ve managed to stand him for this long. Are you going to get dressed? We have to eat with my parents, and then we have to go out to.. I forget which family’s..” He trailed off, looking up at the ceiling. 

“The Hadaways,” she answered for him and he groaned loudly in response. “I am dressed. You just want me to get _less_ dressed and into one of those less than lingerie dresses..” 

Adrian’s head snapped up and he grinned at her, eyeing her body. “I’d like to see you in less than lingerie. However, I don’t care what you wear. Wear a sack if you will, but my mother on the other hand will have something to say about it.” 

Daphne scowled and went to him and turned, waiting for him to unzip the dress she was wearing now. Once he did so she slipped it off, going to her wardrobe to find a more suitable piece of clothing for the occasion. She ignored the feeling of his eyes on her body, determined to not feel so horrible about being in her undergarments in front of her own husband. A mistake, she quickly realized, as she wanted to run immediately to the bathroom to hide herself in shame.

“We should skip, and you can just stay in that. Or not. You could take the rest off too. I wouldn’t protest,” he suggested, a sensual lilt in his tone. 

“We have to, Adrian,” she told him, her face hardening as she fought a blush. “I don’t want your parents upset.” 

“I always upset them by skipping,” he said dismissively. 

“Exactly. I want to be a _good_ influence. I like your mother and I want her to like me,” she said, hoping to impress at least one set of pure-blood parents in her lifetime. 

She turned to blink up at him when he had crossed the room to join her at her side. His fingers slid into her hair as he cupped the back of her head gently, kissing her lightly for only a moment before pulling back and kissing her forehead. 

“You’re sweet. Thank you for being so respectful towards her,” he murmured, his voice sincere.

Daphne looked down at his chest shyly, surprised by his sudden change of character as well as the kiss. “She’s been kind to me, and I don’t want to let anyone down. I’m already out of place here as it is.” 

“You’re not out of place. You’re exactly exactly where you’re meant to be. You’re Daphne Pucey, yeah?” 

“I suppose,” she sighed, looking up to meet his eyes. Hazel and warm.

“Though we’ve still yet to _really_ confirm things,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow before glancing down her body which she covered instinctively. “How is the magic meant to set when we are not fulfilling our marriage duty? And why are you doing that? Think I don’t like how you look or something?” 

She frowned, forcing her hands back down before looking down at her own body, unsatisfied with what she saw. She had already put on weight only in the small amount of time she had been there, and though she knew and was reassured she looked better, still a part of her was horrified with herself. “I’m sure you have many better looking women to compare me to. Besides, you already told me how you thought I was too skinny.” 

Adrian grimaced, shaking his head. “First of all. Don’t listen to me when I’m being an arsehole. It’ll happen often, but just ignore it. You look much healthier already. Second of all. _My wife_ is not being compared to anyone. Ever,” he told her firmly, tilting her chin up so she’d look up at him once more. “You’re not competing with anyone anymore. I’m yours. This is your home.”

_You’re not competing with anyone anymore._

He kept making her emotional, and she was sure he was tired of her hugs by now so she refrained as she felt a smile break across her face. She leaned up to kiss him as she felt her eyes well up, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling even more vulnerable with her arms raised. Somehow, she felt oddly comforted, safe in this moment as he returned her kiss with a slowness that allowed her to explore how his warm mouth felt on hers on her own accord. He broke the kiss when saltiness from one of her tears joined their mouths and he scowled, wiping another tear with his thumb. 

“I swear you make me feel like shit that you get so touched by the smallest things I say. You’re giving me way too much credit, love. You’re just used to extreme pricks,” he muttered, searching her eyes “At least wait until I’m actually trying to charm you. This is far from my best work.” 

“It’s good work, still. I appreciate it. A lot,” she told him sincerely, tightening her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry if I’m.. Frigid. I can tell you’re trying. I promise I am too.” 

“I know you’re trying, Daphne. Don’t be sorry for anything. Now, as much as I enjoy your new affection, we have to go eat before we leave.”

Daphne nodded, pulling away from him to grab one of the less offensively revealing dresses and slipped it on, going to the bathroom to touch up her face. “I need a proper vanity in the room, Adrian,” she said loudly for him to hear, irritable at having to do her makeup and hair in the bathroom. 

“What?” He asked and she could practically hear the squint of his eyes in his voice. “You want to do what to my bedroom, woman?” 

“It’s _our_ bedroom,” she corrected, adding a bit of curl to her hair with her wand and dabbing perfume onto her neck before stepping back out. “There are a few changes I’d like to make, actually. It’s much too.. Bachelor in here.” 

“Mama? Is that you?” He asked incredulously before offering his arm as he scoffed at her. 

Her gaze narrowed and she took his arm, allowing him to guide her to the dining hall to meet his parents who were already chatting along with each other when they came to sit as Daphne greeted them politely. 

“You are so gorgeous. You will make the best babies,” Olena exclaimed, turning to Adrian before a string of fast words from her own language left her lips. Daphne blinked and glanced at Rhys who raised his eyebrows at her and took a drink. 

“Don’t worry. I can’t understand them either when they do this. We are in the dark together.” 

Daphne smiled at him, glancing at Adrian when he responded back to her fluently. 

“She’s a fraud you know. She can speak English much better than she acts like she can,” Rhys went on, eyeing his wife who stopped to give him a look. 

“I’m not a _fraud_ ,” she said, scowling to Daphne. “It’s just easier to act like you can’t say a lot of words back when someone is telling you a lot of words you don’t care about.” 

Daphne noticed her accent was lesser now, though still present, and her words were much more fluent. She wondered why she had kept up her apparent act in front of her up until this point. “So.. You act like you can’t speak English very well so you don’t have to work as hard as a hostess?” 

Rhys snorted with laughter and Olena tilted her head considerably. “Well it doesn’t sound good when you say it like that!” She exclaimed before swatting at him. “Of course I can speak English well after so long of living with this one. As if he can try and learn _my_ language.” 

“I did learn it, but you know I can’t understand when you speak as fast as you do.” 

“Well it is not my problem you’re an idiot! I’m not going to just talk slowly just for your sake. That’s not my job! I’ll sound like everyone who talks to _me_ like I’m stupid,” she huffed. “No need for everyone to talk to me like I’m stupid, I can understand them without them yelling slowly at me like a child.” 

“You choose to seem like you can’t understand them very well,” Rhys pointed out. 

“Doesn’t excuse the yelling. What makes them think I cannot hear? Because English is not my first language I am now unable to hear? Daphne, how many languages can you speak?”

Daphne was trying to get over the fact Olena had called her husband stupid at the dinner table and she shook her head slightly in surprise before replying. “Four. English, German, French, and Italian.” 

“Hmm. Yes, and Adrian can speak more than I know with everywhere he travels when he likes to leave his poor family and upset us. Yet.. My Rhys can speak only English,” Olena quipped, cutting into her food. 

“No. I can speak French, and-“

“Every man with a bit of money can speak French,” she cut him off dismissively. “You are not special.”

“And I can speak yours, but you must go slow,” he finished, looking unbothered by her interrupting him. 

“Yes, well. Daphne will learn and then you will be the only one who can’t understand. German? Your grandmother was German, I know. I met her before! My mother and I were here for a while, before I moved permanently, and it was some sort of large event. I don’t remember which. They all become one after time. Anyway, she was the only one who couldn’t speak English well like my mother. Sweetest woman I’ve met! I saw Freya too. She just was stuck to her the whole time, all shy. Much more timid than she is now. Shame she is gone and you were never able to meet her,” Olena prattled, frowning. 

Adrian shifted slightly next to her and there was an odd expression on his face that Daphne couldn’t identify. “My mother doesn’t really talk about her, but we do visit that side of her family sometimes. My uncle and grandfather live in Germany near them now, as their home was destroyed years ago and they prefer the pure-bloods there. My great-grandmother is still alive. I like her best there.” 

“That’s right it was destroyed! So sorry to hear about that. From what people say it was a beautiful and historical home, and it was a shock to have it lost. Were the people who did it found? Who could know who would do it? Our people have many enemies don’t they? So glad to know you keep in touch with your roots. I’d love to meet this grandmother of yours. How is Freya doing? I’ve always liked her. I was only here for the last few years at Hogwarts, but I always found her funny. Don’t think she likes me much. I won’t take it personally. I don’t think she likes anyone. Oh, wow. I remember in class, I was partnered with Sylvia Nott, who was one of us, did you know? More in our circle? Well, Sylvia said something to Freya about her mother. Oooh, wow! Freya got up and went to her like she was going to do attack her in the middle of the lesson. Then, the teacher made threats about if he saw their wands come out, so Freya took both her and Sylvia’s wand and threw them across the room and got in her face like she was going to fight her _without_ a wand! Oooh! They were separated before it happened, but I did not sit by Sylvia anymore. I can’t be in that line of crazy. No thank you. After that her and her friend Joseph never let up on Sylvia, _and then_ Sylvia had to marry him! Crazy! No?” 

“Talks a lot, doesn’t she?” Rhys said, widening his eyes at Daphne. “Love, we actually need to eat before we leave.”

Olena grumbled to herself incoherently and nodded. “Yes. We will eat now. We will discuss this later. Oh! Speaking of, my mama will actually be coming here. Don’t make that face, Rhys. Rude,” she said, not even looking at her husband’s face to know it was covered in a grimace. “You can meet her and she will love you. Such a beautiful girl. Beautiful babies.” 

Daphne could only really smile and nod, not knowing which to reply to first. Luckily, Olena didn’t seem to be waiting for a response as she switched her attention to her food for a while before talking to Adrian again, leaving English behind once more.

“How are you settling in, Daphne?” Rhys asked her, his voice calm and kind.

“Ah.. The best I can, Mr. Pucey. It’s much different than I expected. I hope to not embarrass you, but I think I attracted the wrong attention at your party,” she told him apologetically, shifting in her seat.

“You’ll be fine. There are so many of them, a couple parties of you wondering around like a frightened mouse will be soon forgotten,” he told her reassuringly. 

Olena gasped and pointed her fork in Daphne’s direction. “That made me think of something! Did you see Terence? Do you know Terence Higgs?” 

“Yes. I spoke to him. He told me I was doing a very horrid job of being a Pucey.” 

Olena jerked her head back, looking highly offended. “How rude. How is he insulting my personal pick for my own family? Rude. So rude,” she muttered, glaring at the table as she thought to herself. “Adrian, why is your friend insulting my daughter?” 

“No idea, mama. I’ll have to ask him myself.”

“He did give me good advice not to take anything from Adrian’s _friends_ ,” Daphne said, defending Terence slightly as she looked to Adrian from the side of her eyes. 

“Don’t take anything from Adrian either. He’s very bad. Very bad boy. Anyway, what was I saying before you told me that boy was rude? Oh! Yes, Terrence’s older brother married a woman similar to you years ago. She fits nicely now, could be better, but. It’s good, it’s fine. She’s fine.” Olena waved her hand, nodding. “Charlotte is her name. Charlotte.. What was she before, Adrian? You went to school with her.” 

“I was in first or second year when she graduated,” he snorted. “I’d hardly say I went to school with her. Charlotte Blythe.”

“Yes! Maybe you two will be friends?” 

Daphne laughed loudly, covering her mouth apologetically. “Ah.. I know of her, Mrs. Pucey,” she replied politely, clearing her throat. 

Adrian gave her a knowing look and Olena blinked at the two of them. “Okay. I will be outside of the joke this time I think,” she said, looking at her husband before fussing with his clothes. 

* * *

 

Ophelia watched Edric for a while, surprised at his sudden interest in her. Well, she shouldn’t be too surprised, seeing as what had just happened during their class. “About my birthing situation you mean?” She asked him, feeling slightly defensive. 

“If you’d like. If that’s something that’s a large part of you. If it’s not, then no,” he answered levelly. 

Ophelia opened her mouth to answer when she felt something brush against her leg and a small shriek left her lips. She scrambled away fearfully, instinctively towards the tall and study man next to her, knocking into him. 

He seemed to slightly cringe at the noise she made before his face became neutral again and he motioned to the grey cat eyeing her, flicking its tale. “Careful. She’s a vicious creature,” he said dryly, leaning away a bit as she was touching him. 

A sigh of relief left her lips before her face heated up and she scooted away from him, apologizing under her breath in her embarrassment. 

“You are rather loud,” he observed, brushing his clothes slightly and she scowled at his hands that were brushing the invisible residue he seemed to think she had left on him. 

“Is that your cat?” She asked, nodding to the animal as it blinked at her and came to rub against her again.

“Mmm,” he confirmed.

Ophelia pressed her lips together to hold back a giggle at the thought of the intimidating Slytherin choosing such a pet. “What’s her name?” 

“She has a collar if you decide to be observant.” 

Ophelia narrowed her eyes at his rudeness but decided against complaining as she reached for his pet’s tag, reading the name. “Titania. That’s cute,” she commented. “You really like Astronomy.” She let the cat climb in her lap, purring as it rubbed against her. 

“Does your mother?” He asked. 

“Does my mother what? Oh.. Does she like Astronomy? No, actually my name came from Shakespeare.”

“Ah. A woman who loved a man who treated her horribly, eventually went mad, and died if I recall correctly. Quite a character to be named after,” he remarked.

“Interesting that you’re familiar with Shakespeare,” she said slowly, watching him oddly. 

“Not terribly interesting. I’ve read a bit of his work for comparison purposes,” he replied indifferently. 

“And?”

Edric made a sound that indicated he was not very impressed and Ophelia rolled her eyes. Of course he wouldn’t be. 

“How is it being Head Boy?” She sniffed, looking back down at her work which was now halfway covered by the cat in her lap.

Of course he was Head Boy. 

“I recall asking about you,” he pointed out, his voice graced with his usual annoyingly charming and almost patronizing lilt.

She went quiet for a moment, scratching behind Titania’s ears as she thought. “My mother was attending a private school on a program that allowed for particularly promising students to attend in limited amounts on scholarship. This is where she met my father who aided her in becoming pregnant with me at only sixteen, you can imagine the disgrace, and of course on top of that it was a religious school. My father couldn’t be associated with such a scandal, and she was forced to drop out of school to have me. He offered her money in assistance.. But that was the extent of it. Oh, and this necklace your sister complimented,” she laughed without humor, touching the pendant that hung at her neck. “My mother refused his money out of pride and so she had to try to raise me mostly by herself on less education than she would have gotten had she not had me to worry about. She works very hard, but I know she feels like she’s the worst mother. It’s been harder lately because my grandmother recently has become incapable of taking care of herself completely on her own, and my mother has had to take off time at work to take care of he. Sometimes I feel like she should have just taken the money, but.. I feel she may have grown to be feel even lower about herself if she had done that. Pride, of course. Always pride. After your mother threw her pity money at her she went home and to her room where I assume she cried for hours.”

Edric paused to look up at her, watching her calmly. She tried to read his expression from where her eyes were trained on the ground, but she was forced to meet his eyes.

“It is unfortunate you have had to pay for mistakes that weren’t yours. I apologize for my mother, her behavior can be alarming, but I assure you that she does not hand out pity and that is not what it was.”

“Yes, well. It isn’t the only thing that is out of my control that people look down on my family for.” 

He said nothing to this, and they were quiet for a long time before she spoke again. “He has other children. With his wife. I see his family in the papers. It’s.. An odd feeling. He’s never tried to contact me. As a little girl I would get very upset about it, which would really kill my mother, but now I just.. I don’t know how I feel. I do know that it drives me insane that my mother was so shamed and looked down on for dropping out of school at such a young age to have a child, but the man who was just as responsible was able to graduate, go on to University, and has never stopped receiving praise for every little thing he does just because he’s famous for his family’s company. My mother took responsibility, she works hard, she _hurts_ , and he.. He just has everything for no reason,” she said, a bitter sadness coming over her voice. 

“Why do you wear his gift then?” 

She looked down at the pendant and picked it up to examine it. “I’ve considered selling it. I’m sure I could pay for a lot of things I actually need with this,” she told him, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t know. My mother gave it to me when I was ten. It just.. I don’t know. I really don’t know why I keep it or wear it. It’s not for materialistic reasons. I don’t want you to think that. I don’t _need_ to cling to something just because it’s expensive.” 

“I didn’t think that.” 

She studied him for a while, wondering why she felt so comfortable telling him these things. Perhaps it was because he didn’t try to smother her with pity or give her regurgitated and cliche advice. He came from a similar world her father had. Actually, it seemed he came from an even more bigoted and old fashioned one. “I’m sure you see more from my father’s side.”

He seemed to consider this for a while, and she waited for him to say something back to that but he never did. She wasn’t sure what that meant. 

“Your family is very beautiful. Your sisters are sweet,” she told him, changing the subject slightly. 

“One of my sisters complained about mudbloods right in front of you, and the other is more mischievous than anything. I believe sweet was not the word you were looking for,” he offered. 

She pursed her lips, feeling odd now that he had acknowledged his sister using the term. 

“And is that what you think of me?” She asked quietly, nervous for his answer.

“Mmm?” 

“A mudblood.”

“It’s best not to ask questions that you are not prepared to accept either answer for,” he responded smoothly. 

“Is that a yes?” She asked, swallowing as she tried to fight her feelings from being too hurt by this.

“That’s not what I said.”

She frowned, confused by this and decidedly changed the subject back to his sisters instead, as he was right and she would react poorly if his answer was yes. “You seem to love them very much.”

She caught his face softening slightly. “I do.” 

He became even more attractive to her then as he showed her a more emotional side of himself, a loving side. Even if it was only a glimpse. For a moment he became much more human to her, rather than this handsome and unapproachable being that she had oddly become taken with against her better judgement.

“Oh.. I never got to tell you. I’m sorry about Charlotte. I heard you two were engaged,” she told him after a while awkwardly, grimacing uncomfortably. 

“I don’t care about her, and as you could tell my family wasn’t torn up about it.” 

“Yes, I could tell that,” she breathed, not understanding them or how they worked at all. “She was though. I felt really horrible. Your mother didn’t have to do that in front of everyone.” 

“My mother doesn’t have to do a lot of things and yet you will find she does them anyway.”

“Her father looked so angry.. I feared he was going to hit her.” 

“Perhaps he did,” Edric said simply and her head snapped up to his. 

“You don’t mean that, do you? You don’t think he actually hit her?” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

Ophelia put a hand on her temple, guilt burrowing in her stomach for the girl. She didn’t like her at all, but she didn’t want to be the cause of something like that. 

“You were cruel. How you reacted after. Like she was worthless.”

“You believe that I was cruel?” He chuckled. “You should have been paired with another pure-blood to really show you what cruelty entails.” 

A chill ran through her at his words and she fiddled with her quill, shifting uncomfortably.

“Don’t feel bad for her. She wouldn’t feel bad for you, I can assure you of that.”

“That isn’t a reason to not feel bad for her,” she said firmly. “Two wrongs do _not_ make a right.” 

He snorted loudly at that and she saw him roll his eyes, much to her irritation. “Well, I can assure you she will try to right your supposed wrong at any moment, and I would keep an eye out.” 

“What do you mean..?” She asked him worriedly, frowning as his lips curled up slightly.

“You didn’t think you could take a pure-blood’s husband without repercussions did you?” 

Weeks after he had told her this, she was in the hallway outside of the Deputy Headmistress’s office with her mother who had been called to Hogwarts and escorted specially into the castle just to discuss the “fighting” Ophelia had been participating in. It was absolutely ridiculous the efforts they had gone to just to bring her muggle mother into Hogwarts for such a reason, but Charlotte’s parents had demanded Ophelia the same treatment Charlotte had received. Though, Ophelia was the victim, and had only been defending herself. 

“It’s completely ridiculous that you’ve been brought here, mum,” she muttered to her as they left the office, looking at her mother’s work uniform. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s completely unlike you to be getting into fights at school,” her mother said stiffly, her eyes traveling around the castle uncomfortably. “I raised you better.” 

“I’m not getting into fights. It’s Blythe who keeps coming after me. What am I meant to do? Just let her attack me?” She asked her, shaking her head.

“And why does she have a problem with you?” Her mother’s voice was cool, and Ophelia stepped back at the clear disappointment for her in her voice. “She certainly doesn’t look like anyone who would even be associating with you in order to have a problem with you.”

“I.. I didn’t do anything. I just-“

“You did something. In that book shop. You said something, and I saw her look at you. Then that woman went off on her. You did that. What did you do.” 

“Nothing, mum.. I just saw her being inappropriate with a professor. I wasn’t watching my mouth and I said it out loud. She was supposed to marry Edric, and that was his mother in the shop, but-“

“That boy,” she interrupted her, anger filling her eyes. “This is all over that boy? You’re humiliating other girls over _that boy_?” 

“No. It has nothing to do with him. I told you-“

“It has everything to do with him,” she snapped. “Don’t act like it isn’t, Ophelia. You knew what you were doing. You may buy your own innocent act, but I know you better. You do not step over others to get what you want in life, and as of right now you want what you will _never_ have so I suggest you stop making unnecessary enemies along the way to your disappointment.” 

“Oh really?” Ophelia scoffed, shocked and offended her mother was taking Charlotte’s side of all people. “Seems to work great for people like them!” 

Her mother stopped and narrowed her eyes, walking towards her so her face was near hers. “Do you think that woman in the shop goes home to a happy life? Do you think her life is fulfilled being the soulless creature that she is? Is that what you want to be?” 

Ophelia took a step back, nearly fuming now. She hadn’t _done_ anything to deserve a scolding like this. “All I know is that _her_ children don’t have to work over breaks to help make money for the family, her children don’t have to worry about being able to afford all of their school supplies, and her children don’t have to miss apparition lessons because they can’t afford only twelve bloody galleons,” she ground out in her frustration, her voice growing louder as she spoke.

Ophelia regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth and her heart sank when her mother stumbled back slightly as if she’d been slapped, a shuddering breath leaving her lips. 

“Mum..” She started apologetically, reaching for her. 

Her mother stepped out of her reach, shaking her head as her face hardened. “You can’t make me more ashamed of myself or the life I’ve given you than I have already made myself,” she said softly, her voice breaking before it got louder, angrier. “But don’t you _dare_ make me ashamed of you too.” 

With that, her mother turned her heel to walk away from her before she could reply, joining the man who had helped her into the castle so he could return her back to their muggle world. 

* * *

Draco stared at his sleeping wife next to him, conflicting thoughts in his head. He hadn’t meant to fuck her the way he had, hadn’t meant to touch her at all, but the memory of Nott had been far too much for him to handle. Did Nott honestly think he had a right to claim Astoria as his? Astoria _Malfoy_? The woman who had Draco’s ring on her finger and whose magic was bonded to him and him alone? 

She was his witch.

Draco narrowed his eyes and trailed a finger down her arm, watching the fine blonde hairs on her skin rise as goosebumps appeared under his touch. He would like to see Nott put his hands on her once more after he had magically branded her. Dark magic that he had learned in his time alone in the Manor while he had needed distractions to keep his mind off of everything once the war had ended. Her skin would appear unflawed as it always had unless Draco deemed otherwise, or until a man with feelings such as Nott came along to try and put his hands on her. He almost hoped Nott would, just so he would see who she truly belonged to. 

His and his alone. 

Yet still there was something in his chest that pained him when he looked at her with the knowledge that she was in love with another man. She loved him still after what he had done to her, after he had admitted that it had started as a plot to ruin her. Still, she loved him. 

Draco had no idea how to make her love him. 

He pulled his hand back, going over the thought again. Was that what he cared about? Whether or not she loved him? Of all the things he should be caring about, and he was thinking about how his cheating wife didn’t love him. 

Ridiculous. 

She turned over tiredly to face him in her sleep, her face delicate and peaceful in her deep rest. Her curls fell over the side of her face slightly, covering her lips that were marked with a bit of dry blood from where his teeth had assaulted them. He brushed her hair out of her face gently, assessing the lightened rings under her eyes. His eyes moved from her face and down her neck and chest, examining the marks he had made with his mouth, feeling a fresh wave of possession roll over him. He remembered the sound of his name come from her lips during her pleasure, the pleasure he had not intended to give her, but had been unable to help himself at the idea of her thinking of another man when he touched her. 

Not to mention how bloody _good_ she was. Obedient and pure, still and sweet for him as he did what he wanted to her just until the end when she truly couldn’t handle it anymore and disobeyed him with her embrace as she had clung to him. Knowing how well she controlled herself her break of control had been an odd sort of triumph for him, and it made him want her all the more. The sounds she made were music to him, raw and real, none of them made to sound overly sensual or rehearsed. She was his sweet and innocent witch who didn’t have to make an effort to be sexy or desired, but simply was sexy in her natural and youthful state without trying or knowing it. 

The voice of her professing her love to Nott violated his train of thought and he turned away from her, bitterness clawing at his throat. How easy it was to forget his anger for her, but not as easy to forget the hurt he was feeling for a reason beyond him. 

She had claimed to care about him, but he did not see how that could be, as he had done nothing to make her care about him. He had been trying to make the marriage work somewhat, yes, but he certainly hadn’t been attempting to charm her as Nott had or attempted to let her in. So was she honest when she had said this? Could he believe the things she told him even if they sounded as sincere as they did? 

He thought of his mother and how she loved his father even now when he had gone completely mad. She loved him still through all he had put her through. Draco didn’t want to be like his father, but he didn’t want to be vulnerable either. He had been the slightest bit vulnerable with her and it had ended in him being hurt, and he had to accept now that it had been more than just his pride that had been hurt. He was in danger of becoming just as much hers as she was his, and in more than just a physical sense. 

He let out a slow breath through his nose, unsure of what to do with her. She would wake up soon, and he should leave before she did. 

Didn’t he always avoid her? 

He did always avoid her, and for good reason. She consumed him and made him feel trapped, and some of the things he had found in her head he didn’t know how to feel about. 

He stilled when she stirred, her eyes opening halfway tiredly to find him, reaching for him sleepily before stopping herself and tucking her hand beside her. A rip of desire to drag her to him as she reached for him went through him as he watched her retract her hand, following his orders not to touch him, and he half wished she had touched him anyway. 

“You’re still here,” she said curiously, her voice thick with sleep. 

“Mmm. So are you somehow,” he replied, forcing his tone into its usual coldness with her.

“Thank you,” she told him, frowning. 

“Sit up and I will call for food. You look better when you eat properly.” 

“You want me to eat in bed again?” She asked grimacing. “Shouldn’t we eat at the table?” 

He raised an eyebrow and motioned for her to proceed. “By all means then.” 

Astoria nodded and gathered the sheet around her to stand only for a few moments before sitting back down. “Maybe I will eat in bed just once more,” she murmured, gathering herself back onto the bed. “For lunch I will eat at the table.”

“Mhm.” Yes, that’s what he thought. Her body had already been weak without all of their activities from the night before. 

“Why are you still here?” 

“It’s my bedroom.” 

“Yes, but. I expected you to be gone.” 

“I’m not.” 

“I can see that,” she said, her voice nearly short as she scowled. 

“Attitude already and I’ve only just allowed you back in my presence?” He asked challengingly,

She apologized and he shook his head, calling for the elf to bring her some breakfast which she seemed to eat just fine. 

“Have you been using my father’s Pensieve?” She asked after awhile, appearing nervous. 

“Yes.” 

She looked to him expectantly, obviously wanting him to go on with what he had seen and experienced. 

“You will see for yourself,” he said dismissively. 

She pressed her lips together and nodded after a few seconds. “So what am I allowed now?” 

“Meaning?” 

“You locked my out of the library and the gardens, and you’ve kept my sister from coming. So what am I allowed now?” 

“We’ll see.” 

“See what?” 

“You spread your legs once and suddenly you believe you have a right to everything again,” he said shortly, watching her look down in slight offense to the words he had used. 

“I’m sorry I just.. Have been trapped with my thoughts. I just want to get away from them,” she said softly, licking the dried blood from her lip. 

Ah, how he understood her completely. 

 

“I’ll owl your sister.” 


	34. Chapter 34

Daphne stalked into the Manor impatiently, narrowing her eyes at Draco who was talking with Blaise as if nothing was off, as if he hadn't blocked her from her own damn sister when she needed her more than anyone.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her expression. "A bit of gratitude would be appropriate," he drawled.

"Gratitude?" She hissed. "And for what do you think I owe you _gratitude_ , Malfoy?"

"I can think of a couple things, but let's start with allowing you back into my home. I certainly don't have to, and I can take the privilege away at any moment. I am not fond of your attitude at the moment I must confess."

"Are you truly serious? She's seventeen years old and she has never been away from me this long!"

"She doesn't need you, Daphne. You must stop believing you can attempt to parent a girl more capable than you."

Draco's comment shouldn't have stung, but it did ever so slightly. After all, she knew Astoria never needed her advices or scoldings though still she had given them to her to attempt to pretend otherwise. She set her jaw, not showing Draco that his comment had any affect.

"She does need me, just as I need her. Don't you dare try and take her away from me again," she told him, walking passed him and towards the stairs.

"Was that a threat? No, no. Absolutely not, Greengrass. You will wait until she comes down here. I will not have you in my bedroom."

Daphne ignored him and rushed up the steps, hearing him mutter angrily from below and seemingly get up from his seat and she sped up, searching for the master bedroom. She knocked and called for her sister, glancing behind her to see if Malfoy had caught up with her before Astoria opened the door, her face lighting up before her features curled into a grimace as her eyes ran down Daphne's body.

"What are you wearing..?" She asked incredulously, distaste in her voice.

Ah, she had missed her.

Daphne pushed into the room, closing the door and locking it before pulling her small sister into a tight embrace, closing her eyes at the familiarity. She hadn't realized how much she had missed her in her desire to see her just for her sake. She truly needed her just as much. She frowned when she noticed her sister even smaller in her arms, pulling back to assess her worriedly.

"I love you," her sister said, her voice wavering, interrupting Daphne's inspection.

She looked to her little sister's eyes, finding them bright with tears. "I'm sorry that I didn't stop you.. At Hogwarts," she whispered. "I'm sorry that I didn't put you before my own endeavors."

Daphne felt her face draw into a confused expression before she understood. She was referring to when Daphne had given up her innocence to Astoria's now husband. She gave Astoria a dull look.

"You may be manipulative, Astoria, but you're my sister. I've known you since you were born. Your tricks don't work on me. You think you're the reason I did what I did?"

"No.. But I still feel I should have done something."

"You played the game. I can't fault you for that," Daphne responded, smiling sadly.

"The game shouldn't include family. I need you," she said, her voice small and childlike as she buried her face into Daphne.

Daphne felt both warmed and saddened by her sister, seeing how badly it must have been for her while Daphne had been blocked from her and she had been isolated. She kissed Astoria's head and held her for awhile, both of them quiet.

"Which side of the bed is Draco's?" Daphne asked her when she finally decided to break the silence, smirking.

Astoria pulled back and blinked at her before motioning to the bed. "The right side. Closest to the balcony."

Daphne walked over to the bed which was neatly made with dark bedding, ripping back the blankets to crawl into Draco's side smugly after kicking off her shoes. "He was following me. I guess he decided to let us be."

"He's not going to be happy about this," Astoria warned, but her eyes were bright with amusement as she joined her in the bed.

"He can go screw himself," Daphne muttered, snuggling close to her sister before she became serious, studying the circles under her eyes before her eyes moved down to the purplish marks on her neck that showed evidence of a lover and his mouth being particularly savage. "What happened, Astoria?"

"Wait. Can't we talk about what you're _wearing_ first?"

"Astoria," Daphne said firmly before touching the circles under her sister's eyes. It was rare Astoria looked less than her flawless, doll-like appearance.

"I made a terrible mistake, Daphne."

* * *

"You look good in my clothing," Edric commented when Ophelia put on his cloak after class as they came to their usual spot to work, having remembered it this time.

Her steps stuttered as she was caught off guard by such a statement. "Oh. Um.. Thank you," she managed, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she ducked her head and turned from him, going to find a comfortable place to sit in the grass.

"Your mother was quite angry with you," he commented, sitting near her but not too close as he usually did.

Her head snapped up to look at him, searching his face. "Did you hear?"

"Mmm."

Her face fell and she closed her eyes, ashamed that anyone had witnessed her act so spoiled and terrible towards her own mother. Especially him.

"Oh," she said quietly.

"You feel guilty," he observed.

"Yes. Of course I feel guilty! I was horrible."

"You had reason to be upset, but yes it seems you hurt your mother," he reasoned thoughtfully.

"I don't know what came over me," she sighed, letting her curls fall over the side of her face to help hide her from him. "I never talk like that."

"Perhaps I'm a bad influence."

She frowned, suddenly recalling the rest of her mother's comments. She now felt even more embarrassed, thinking of how her mother accused her of having some sort of relationship with him, and insisting she had made the comment about Charlotte out of some sort of plot to get Edric for herself. Apparently they _both_ seemed to think he had some sort of hold on her life.

They had spent quite a bit of accumulated time together..

"She doesn't seem to like me, does she? Or my mother. I'm sure my mother will be crushed to know a muggle referred to her as a 'soulless creature'," he went on.

"I'm sorry for that. I'm sure your mother is a lovely woman," she said, frowning at him referring to her mother as a 'muggle'. She wasn't sure if that was meant as something degrading to him.

Of course it was.

"No, not to most," he said simply. "I have to admit, I've never had a woman's mother discourage their daughter towards having a relationship with me."

"I'm sure you haven't," she grumbled, remembering her mother's words shortly after they had encountered the Greengrass family at the bookshop.

"That boy, Ophelia," her mother had said, not looking at her as she stared straight forward at the dinner table before Ophelia went to bed. "Please don't."

"Anyway," Ophelia told Aldrich, going on before he replied, breaking her thoughts away from the memory. "She has no reason to be worrying about that anyway. She thinks I was jealous of Charlotte because of you. Which isn't true. You don't have to do with anything."

"Wasn't it you who claimed honesty was the best policy?" He asked, raising an eyebrow though still his eyes were trained on his work as they usually were.

She stared at him, surprised by her partner once again. "I-I'm not sure what you're implying, Edric."

He looked up to meet her eyes and her breath caught at the sight of his light eyes that held an almost playful look. "You and I both know that you know exactly what I'm implying, love."

"Oi!" Came Violet's loud voice as she approached them and Ophelia jumped just as she began to heat up in embarrassment, glancing between Violet and Edric's grimacing face as he eyed Violet with irritation.

"So nice to see you too, Greengrass," she snorted, scowling back at him. "Ophelia, you were supposed to skip extra studies tonight to come to play games with the rest of us in the common room."

Oh, right. She had forgotten about that.

Edric stood, brushing himself off. "Very well. I won't oppose. Though next time it isn't necessary to make your presence known in such an obnoxious manner."

"He doesn't like when girls make a bunch of noise apparently, Vy," she told her friend, rolling her eyes as she stood.

"Not entirely true," he said lightly before looking to her and down her figure. "It's fine when I intend on a girl making noise." He picked up his things and nodded to the both of them, his expression back to polite and neutral. "Goodnight."

Oh, if Ophelia wasn't red before..

Violet coughed out a shocked and elated laugh. "Umm!" She exclaimed to her, her face bright with excitement.

"Let's go to the common room," Ophelia mumbled, moving around her friend to head towards the castle.

"What's going on with _that_ , Ophelia? Have you been holding out on me? Did Edric Greengrass, pure-blood extraordinaire, just imply something sexual to a _muggle-born_?" The gleeful sound in her friend's voice caused her to have to hold back a groan of humiliation.

"I don't think that's what he was meaning."

"You liar. You know that's exactly what he was meaning!"

She did, and she didn't know what that meant.

Actually, she could picture him in the Slytherin Common Room now, laughing with his mates and sneering about how he had toyed with a muggle-born and had made her think he _wanted_ her. No, not a muggle-born. She was sure he didn't use that term.

A mudblood.

"How many of them do you suppose will go on to murder people one day?" Violet mused at their house table in the Great Hall, tilting her head at the Slytherins.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Violet, don't be so stereotypical."

"Ophelia, don't be so naive," Violet quipped back, rolling her eyes in return. "You'd be amazed how many murders go unreported in the wizarding world. I've heard it's much harder to get away with that sort of thing in the muggle world, but if you knew the magical world better, especially when it comes to the side that practices dark magic, you'd know it's not stereotypical. Well, I mean it is a bit seeing as there _are_ other houses that produce witches and wizards that practice dark magic, but it isn't as known. Besides, not all magic folks go to Hogwarts either. The world is a large place. However! You'd be shocked to know about some of the things that go on in those pure-blood families."

"Too bad you weren't actually sorted into Slytherin. You're awfully fascinated with them."

"You should be too seeing as you have something going on with our infamous Greengrass Head Boy," she purred to her, her eyebrows raising suggestively.

"Will you hush," Ophelia growled, glancing around them. "You're far too much at times."

"Don't worry," Violet sang. "Families like his are too uppity to get their hands dirty. But! It is a bit suspicious how the Greengrass family is always remaining in the same spot as far as status in their world goes. Other families go up and down a bit over time, scandals here and there, but they-" Violet broke off, raising her hand to move it in a straight line through the air. "-never falter from one of the top." She stopped to give Ophelia a smug look before she wobbled her hand a bit. "Well, I suppose things may get a bit rickety with you catching Edric's eye. You should catch his father's eye while you're at it. Have you seen the man? Ugh. Illegally alluring."

The Astronomy teacher was fussing about, taking forever to start the class as usual when Ophelia stood slightly stiffly next to her absurdly attractive partner who absurdly had to flirt with her so inappropriately and confusingly the last time she had seen him. She stepped back a bit when a Slytherin boy near the front of the room narrowed his eyes at her, his lip curling into a cruel smirk as he eyed her with an intimidating amount of hatred, as if he wanted to hurt her there in the middle of class.

_"How many of them do you suppose will go on to murder people one day?"_

"Are you scared?" Edric's voice came beside her, glancing up at the boy ahead of them before looking back down dismissively.

"Well," she started with an attempt at humor in her tone as she tried to lighten her own mood. "Violet _was_ just talking about how many murderers come out of your house."

"I see. Shouldn't you be scared of me then? Seeing as I'm an ever so frightening Slytherin?" He mocked her in a lighthearted manner.

"I don't know, Edric have you ever murdered somebody?" She asked, a slightly dramatic tone to her voice.

"I recall advising you that it were best not to ask questions you are not prepared to accept either answer for."

She would have laughed, but the solemn tone to his voice stopped her, changing her mood completely as an odd warning chill ran down her spine.

* * *

"Never knew a mudblood would be so mournful over a pure-blood's property being destroyed," Blaise said, quirking an eyebrow slightly.

The Aurors had only just left them, and Granger had gone on and on to Astoria and Daphne about how much she had read about the history of the Krat mansion and how it was such a shame it had been destroyed. He didn't find it too out of character, Granger had always seemed to care about silly shit, and he knew that it had been quite the ordeal when the Krat property had been destroyed.

Astoria was sitting beside him now, seeming content that she had been allowed some interaction at last. Adrian had joined them as well eventually when he had come to collect his wife, but the Aurors had popped in for a surprise _visit_ and had forced both of them to stay.

Draco examined Astoria's neck, irritable at the glamour charms that covered the evidence of his lips claiming her skin. Though he knew she was not raised to appear in front of others in such a state, it still irked him that she had concealed them.

Joseph Nott entered his home, joining the younger crowd of adults. He had been at the Manor more often now that his son had not been allowed so that he could chat about things that related to them seeing as they had been followers of the Dark Lord together. He heavily eyed the Pensieve each time he came, seemingly very apprehensive of it.

Draco took the disillusionment charm off of the Pensieve now that the Aurors had gone just because it amused him that the former Death Eater he had used to be so wary of and intimidated by was so apparently nervous of one of Draco's possessions.

"Mr. Nott," Blaise said slowly, pulling his eyes from his wand that he was studying in his boredom before smirking at Joseph. "Did _you_ destroy the Kratt Mansion? You'd have the reason to, no?"

Draco saw both Astoria and Joseph visibly freeze when the Pensieve began to fill the room with its secrets.

Freya Krat was on the floor of the Hogwarts hallways, parchment and books surrounding her. Her face looked visibly more tired than usual, and her robes were a slight mess. Rhys Pucey came to drop his books down beside her, sinking down the wall next to her.

"I believe the teachers are trying to kill us, Freya," he groaned, though his pile of books were significantly smaller than hers.

"If you believe you're near death then you can imagine how I'm holding up, Pucey."

"You bring that upon yourself. I'd rather die than take on that much schoolwork. For what anyway? You're just going to get married after school," he said, grimacing at all of her papers scattered around her.

Freya pressed her lips together at her friend's comment when Joseph Nott stopped before them, spotting them as he was passing. His eyes wandered over Freya's books, stopping on one before he dropped his head back, cursing loudly.

Freya raised an eyebrow at him, assessing the look of him. "I suppose you have your project ready for tomorrow?" She asked him, her tone indicating that she knew very well the answer already.

"Freya.." Joseph said slowly, a sheepish look crossing his features as he stepped towards her.

She narrowed her eyes. "No."

His face fell and he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Come on, please? I'm begging here."

She stared at him, her expression unamused.

"Please my beautiful, brilliant, indescribable, irreplaceable-"

"Please stop before I vomit," she interrupted dryly.

Joseph groaned again, cursing once more as he rubbed his temples in stress.

"… Fine."

A triumphant smirk spread across Joseph's face at Freya's response, seeming to expect this answer. "Great. Thanks, love," he told her before his eyes caught a group of passing Slytherins, the group including Lucius Malfoy, and left to join them.

"Apparently followers of the great _Dark Lord_ don't need education or decent magical ability to conquer," Rhys snorted. "I cannot believe you agreed to do that. Do mine?"

Freya glared fiercely at him and Rhys held up his hands. "I'm just saying. I'd argue I'm the better friend, but fine. If you want to play favorites."

Narcissa sighed as she sat with them on the floor, unloading her own assignments. "This is miserable, isn't it?"

"The professor will be able to tell your handwriting anyway," Rhys grumbled, not acknowledging the witch that had joined them.

Freya took one of his own papers that was filled with notes, holding her wand over it for a few moments before hovering her wand over a page of her own, her handwriting morphing into his.

"Oh, fuck you," he responded bitterly, snatching the paper away.

"Yes, I'm very talented, I know. Recognize me while you can before I become nothing more than a _wife_."

"Do you not want to get married, Freya?" Narcissa asked, covering her yawn as she opened one of her books.

"Yes, I do actually. The sooner I strip myself of my last name the better," Freya muttered quietly, her hand moving quickly over her assignments.

"Aren't you proud of your family name?" Narcissa responded, tilting her head curiously.

"No."

"Well. You ought to be. I mean, you come from a very good line of pure-bloods, and not to mention how long your family's home has been around. It's beautiful. Aren't you ever jealous your brother gets to keep it and not you?"

Freya laughed coldly. "Not soon enough can I get out of that fucking place, Black."

Draco moved to get more comfortable as the memory shifted, used to longer streams of them by now.

Freya stood in front of the incredibly large, castle-like mansion. She was no longer in her Hogwarts uniform as she stared at the property with an eerie calmness before she raised her wand, blowing the doors back and off before entering, pointing her wand at several furniture items and windows, destroying everything in her path.

She came to a large cellar of wine, staring at it coldly before throwing a wave of magic forward, every bottle in the incredibly grand room shattering and shards of glass bit into the girl's pretty skin, flawing her face. Blood now dripped from the seemingly unfazed witch as she continued to make her way through the impossibly large home as she was impressively destructive. Her well tailored dress was now torn and singed, covered in debris from the ruins she left in her path.

She stopped in front of a small closet, watching it for a while as an odd expression entered her formerly emotionless eyes before she opened the door slowly, quietly as if she weren't trying give away her location. She stared inside for a moment before practically throwing her wand towards the closet, the closet erupting in on itself at the blow.

Her chest was heaving now and her eyes danced with a slight madness as she went up the stairs, traveling down the long halls before entering a bedroom that changed her whole demeanor completely, causing her shoulders to sag and her face to fall into vulnerability as she looked around the room. She walked slowly to the bed that looked as if it hadn't been touched in years, sitting on the edge of it in silence for several moments.

"Mama," she said softly, closing her eyes and opening her mouth again as to say something else but only a strangled sound came out.

Freya trembled slightly before reaching down to pick up an item that poked out from under the bed, finding an empty bottle of alcohol. Freya's eyes clouded and she stood slowly before throwing the bottle at the white vanity across the room. She pointed her wand at the bed as she backed out of the bedroom, fire spreading from her wand to coat the furniture before it spread to the walls. She continued backing out of the home while spreading flames across its halls, her face now stone.

Freya stopped to assess her work once she was out of the building as the large mansion burned before aiding the areas that were crumbling, helping them to collapse in on themselves, determined to turn the home into rubble and ash. Her face lost its composure again as she angrily threw her magic relentlessly at the falling home before stopping finally, stumbling back as she began to laugh, tears streaming down her bloodied, dirtied face.

Draco could not see the reactions of the people in the room around him, slightly aggravated that the Pensieve was again presenting them with something new before they could fully comprehend what they had just seen.

Freya arrived at a small mansion, her eyes examining the front of it. She was no longer a bloodied and tattered mess, but completely put together as a polite smile was stretched across her face as she waited for the owner of the house to answer the door.

She nodded to the man who greeted her, requesting his permission to enter his home before she stepped inside, following him.

"Auror Yirt, is it?" She asked him pleasantly, glancing around the home. "Lovely house."

"Yes.." He said slowly. "Thank you, Miss.. Krat, if I'm not mistaken."

"You're not mistaken," she said, her voice coated in honey. "Though fortunately only for about twenty-four hours longer."

"Ah.. Well. Congratulations!" He said awkwardly, looking at her with confusion. "You look well."

"Well, I'm certainly breathing, aren't I?" She responded pleasantly.

He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm sorry, but what can I do for you, Miss Krat?"

"I was just remembering the day we met, you see. When you were called in result of my mother's death. You questioned me, do you remember?"

"I do," he said slowly, watching her with guarded eyes.

"Yes, and I was covered in bruises. My drunk father and my brother watched on as I answered your questions, only eleven, immediately after learning my mother was dead. Oh, I apologize by the way for how much of a mess I was. Hopefully you can understand. If I had been a good child, I would have been much more polite and offered you tea! Don't worry, I was properly punished for my poor manners. Moving along.. Everything was a bit suspicious, wasn't it? Especially when my mother's body was not examined before the case was closed.. Hmm.. You must have been very confident in my father's story, and mine I suppose."

"I'm very sorry, Miss Krat, but it was a clear suicide. I wish-"

"This is a rather luxurious home, Mr. Yirt. I had no idea Auror's made so much money," she observed, giving him a rather impressed look.

"Well, I suppose it's-"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Yirt. I don't mean to bother you, but I came to you because I was wondering how much money the lack of my mother's justice was worth to you?"

The man stared at her, opening his mouth to respond before stopping again, shaking his head slightly.

"Oh no worries, Mr. Yirt. Money gets to the best of us, doesn't it? Many decent people have taken bribes. Yes, money is something powerful isn't it? However what most people do not realize, and unfortunately for you, is that one cannot keep their money in death."

"M-Miss Krat, I-"

"Avada Kedavra."

The words were spoken calmly as Freya's wand raised smoothly, her eyes following the man's body as it fell, his eyes going dull as the light escaped them.

Freya's face didn't change as she raised the body into the air, walking slowly up his floors to the top and through what seemed to be his bedroom to its balcony before dropping the dead man to the stone below. The body smacked hard against the ground, hitting it head first.

She left the balcony and went to search the house until she found his stores of liquor. She plucked two bottles from the cabinet and poured the contents down the drain of his sink before searching his office for one of his Auror reports. She moved her wand over one of them, pulling a piece of parchment from her robes before changing the handwriting that was upon it to his, returning to the balcony to place the bottles near the bed. She left the suicide note on the edge of the bed, walking back towards the railings of the balcony.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Yirt, but it was a clear suicide," she said softly to the body below.

The Manor was silent when the Pensieve retracted its images, and his wife next to him was completely frozen in shock. He heard Daphne make a sound in attempt to speak, but his attention was taken by Blaise who began to rise from his seat slowly.

"Well, isn't this interesting," he said carefully, his voice dark in its need for revenge against Draco's wife. "I suppose all family's have to be exposed for something at some point."

Astoria's head snapped to him, panic filling her clouded eyes.

"Blaise," Draco said slowly, warningly as his friend stood, unsure if he should raise his wand to him.

Before he realized, the room was replaced again with a different scene.

Freya placed a newspaper slowly in front of her husband who was sitting at his desk in his study, his attention on other documents.

"Good evening, Freya," he said calmly, not looking at the newspaper she had placed in front of him.

"Did you do this?" She asked him, her voice slightly strained.

He looked over his reading glasses at her before turning his attention to the paper, which headlined Nero Zabini's death.

"You ought not ask questions you don't fancy either answer to, my dear."

"Did you?" She asked again, watching him.

He turned back to his work, quiet for a moment as he considered. "No."

"Who? Don't tell me it was Evelyn. I'm not stupid."

He stopped before looking up at her eyes again, tilting his head slightly as his lips switched upwards only barely. "Why, you did, darling," he told her, his voice smooth. "With your inability to keep your highly intolerable acts a secret. Though, if you want to be technical I suppose it was our son who did it really."

Freya stood still, her face filling with shock and emotion at the mention of her son. Her body trembled slightly and her eyes moved from his to stare forward, her chest rising noticeably in her panicked breaths as she struggled to keep her stance.

"They have a young son. Only four," she managed, still not looking at him.

"Hopefully he will grow up to be more like his mother, as she knows how to keep her mouth shut."

"He hadn't told anyone anything."

"I won't tolerate being blackmailed, my love. You know that."

Freya struggled to keep her composure as she spoke the next words, her lips barely moving.

"Our son.. Is only eleven."

"Perfectly capable boy. I don't like to get my hands dirty, Freya. You know that."

The study replaced itself with a garden party, recognizable families cluttering the gardens. Freya glanced at Evelyn Zabini with her small son Blaise, Evelyn's eyes low to the ground as people whispered around her.

"Poison? How obvious! If you're going to murder your husband for his belongings at least be more intelligent about it! Does she have no shame?"

Aldrich's eyes met with Evelyn's and he nodded to her, his eyes holding a cold kindness. Evelyn returned his gesture slowly before turning to the woman who came to speak with her, her beautiful face twisting into a confident and sultry expression as opposed to the solemn one she had been wearing just before as she conversed with woman smoothly.

Edric Greengrass stood stiffly beside his mother, holding his two year old sister in his arms as he stared straight forward, his face holding a haunted expression as everyone moved around him and his sister giggled happily in his arms.

Draco's head spun as the room cleared, his mind racing at everything that had come to pass. He didn't look to see anyone else's expression as his gaze was unfocused, but he imagined their faces were just as dumbfounded as his.

"I believe that was a threat, Mr. Zabini," Joseph's voice came through his teeth stiffly. "It would be wise to take it seriously."


	35. Chapter 35

Draco approached Astoria slowly where she stood on his balcony staring out at the dark gardens. Her body was rigid and strands from from her blonde hair that was tucked into a bun broke loose in the wind and he watched her shiver slightly, her shoulders bare in her nightgown. She didn't move as he came towards her, she usually didn't, and he stopped just behind her.

He wasn't sure what to say at the moment. He knew she didn't like thinking of her brother, they weren't meant to speak of the disowned as it was, and he wasn't sure which memory she had been most disturbed by.

The fact that her mother had destroyed such an old, pure-blood family home in itself was incredibly shocking, and for a woman let alone a woman of the family that owned the home to do it was even more shocking.

Still, Draco strangely understood. Watching Freya Greengrass, Krat at the time, destroy the place that had held such terror for her was oddly satisfactory. Somehow he was sure he understood the woman even more than her own daughter before him. His own mother had not suffered nearly as much at the hands of his father as Freya and her mother did her own father, but even so just the sliver of familiarity of seeing his mother-in-law hiding away, listening to her mother in pain related him to the woman.

It was odd, understanding and feeling sympathy for another woman other than his mother to him, but he felt as if he knew Freya from the amount of time he had spent with the Pensieve, observing her in it. Draco was not a fan of watching someone die at the end of the killing curse, but when that Auror had received his fate Draco had felt a sense of justice. Freya's life surely would have been completely different had her father gone to prison as he should have for everything he had brought upon the women he was meant to care for.

Draco's eyes refocused on his wife and a cold chill ran through him as he watched her, remembering his own words as well as his own actions.

_"It would be too easy to let you die. Just another poor, depressed housewife that couldn't take the loneliness of having all of the luxuries in the world without any work to do whatsoever. So she decided to end her own life."_

He had threatened Astoria, threatened her that he would kill her and frame it as a suicide, yet here he was repulsed by a man who had done exactly that to his own wife.

He wouldn't have _done_ it though. No, he was just angry. He hadn't spent time with Astoria, known the importance of her, known how irreplaceable she was.

Draco thought of his closest friend, Blaise, and what his wife's father had done. Blaise had said nothing after the truth of his father's death had been revealed to him, and Draco hadn't known how to react. Blaise had never spoken on the matter of his father much before, and the community had always assumed that Evelyn had killed all of her husband's, Blaise's father included. It's not as if the woman had attempted to deny it really, just simply accepted the fortunes they left behind. He guessed Aldrich didn't have reason to kill the ones after Nero, so he was sure Evelyn was responsible for the rest.

He supposed having a child slip a man poison would be much easier to do than an adult, as Nero Zabini had been known for being quite mad and a strange character of sorts.

What had Nero known?

He imagined he'd eventually find out, as the Pensieve hadn't seemed to be holding anything back from him. He thought of Joseph's warning, how he claimed it was a threat that the Pensieve had shown them such a scene. The Pensieve did seem to have a certain pattern of what it showed related to the topic of conversation. However, Draco hadn't figured out how to command it to show him certain things. He would attempt to give it a direction of memories to reveal, but it would do nothing in response. He supposed perhaps he should be nervous of Aldrich now on the possibility of him finding out that he knew some of his family's secrets, but he couldn't imagine the man sabotaging his daughter's husband in that way. If he fell, so would his daughter and so far Astoria had done the best out of his children.

Draco didn't know what to say to his wife, so instead he placed his hands on her unmoving shoulders, sliding his hands down to her arms and to her waist. Her skin was cold from the chilled wind, and the fabric of her short nightgown was thin enough that he could feel her goosebump covered skin beneath it. An urge to bury her in his chest and arms to shield her from the wind as well as warm her from the cold prickled at him, but the bitter taste of resentment for the witch still hadn't left his tongue, no matter how his instincts told him to comfort the small girl.

"You'll get sick," he told her, pulling back against her hips slightly as to indicate her to go inside.

He watched her head nod stiffly before she followed his guiding hands and turned to go back into his bedroom, moving to crawl onto his bed silently. Draco watched her, keeping his expression neutral as she pulled up the blankets slowly over her lap, staring towards the edge of the bed.

"May we talk about something else? Please?"

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly at this. He had questions for her, and he didn't necessarily feel like she had room to be making such requests considering the terms they were on as well as the fact her own father had murdered his best mate's father. He turned his attention away from her to undress and pull on pants to sleep in, considering what she had asked of him. He turned back to her, opening his mouth to respond before stopping at the appearance of his bed, squinting at the ruffled state is own side was in.

"What is this," he said flatly.

"Ah.. Um. Well," she responded, her voice turning sheepish.

He let out an irritated breath through his nose and stalked over to the bed, getting into it before grimacing at the traces of another woman's scent covering _his_ space.

This was why he didn't want the bitch in his bedroom.

"Switch with me," he snapped irritably, pulling his wife over him impatiently to move to her side, settling away from the evidence of her older sister and into the more comfortable sweetness of his own witch. The house-elf would change out the bedding the next day at least.

She frowned, shifting to make herself comfortable in his place. "I'm sorry. She did it only to annoy you I think."

Draco gave her a dull look. Of course she had done it to irritate him. "I'm aware, Astoria."

"Why does it bother you? Surely you are fine with women in your bed."  
"Not my personal bed."

"But I'm okay?"

"You're my wife."

"I'm special," she concluded, her previously disturbed face lifting slightly.

Yes, but he wasn't. Not to her.

"Mmm," he responded, touching her neck where her glamour charms were. "Remove them."

"My wand is beside you."

He rolled his eyes impatiently, taking his own wand to do it himself, satisfied once her skin was visibly claimed by him once more.

"No reason for such charms."

Astoria scowled, touching her neck. "I can't very well leave love bites on my neck for all to see. That would make me look cheap. I'm not a common whore."

"You can in front of irrelevant visitors such as Aurors. Or when your little boyfriend ends up back at my home once I'm finally able to refrain from slaughtering him."

"Draco," she protested, looking thoroughly bothered by this as she covered her neck uncomfortably as she thought it over.

"Don't argue," he snapped. "You're lucky I'm even allowing you back by my side."

Her lips pushed out ever so slightly in a subdued, unintentional pout and she took his pillow to curl around it. He recalled wondering how the child version of herself he had witnessed was the same as the girl he had married, but recently he had been seeing traces of her more and more. He was surprised to see her recover so quickly from the state she was in when he had taken her from her room, but he was sure she was making an effort to act as unaffected as possible in front of him. Her eyes were still duller than before and her expression still settled into something distant when relaxed. Especially now after the night they had had, and the things they had seen. She was like him, doing anything she could to push aside the things that haunted her, and in that relation he didn't want to interfere too much out of his own understanding.

"How is your mother?"

"She is.. Lonely," he said, his voice quiet.

"Did you tell her?"

"Yes."

Astoria's face fell and she turned away from him. "Why? She will hate me now. What if she tells your father..?"

"She won't tell my father," he said shortly. "She doesn't share with him such things, and no, she doesn't hate you. Though she ought to, but she seems to have a soft spot for you that I don't understand."

".. Don't you?"

"Don't I what, Astoria," he said, his voice flat again.

"Don't you understand?"

Draco said nothing, his eyebrows twitching at her boldness.

"Most men would have reacted worse to what I did.."

"Would you have preferred that?" He nearly snarled. Did the girl _want_ him to be reminded of how weak he was when it came to her? Encourage him to correct himself?

"No.. But.. You seem to have a soft spot for me," she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

Draco grit his teeth and turned over onto his side, unsure of how to react to her words. Of course he had a fucking soft spot for her. She was patient with him, she craved his attention. She appeared so innocent and her voice was so calming in that he felt able to breathe in her presence. He didn't feel _alone_ with her, alone with his insecurities and unhappiness.

He winced when he felt her hand touch his back, her fingers gentle and soft as he felt the bed move slightly as she moved closer to him. She was pushing him now. She was getting into his space when he desperately needed a bit of distance from her, needed to clear his head of the good and remind himself of the snake she could be. Now he only had further proof, now that he had seen the types of things Greengrass had his children do. She was manipulative and knew her advantages.

His flood of negative thoughts paused when he felt her arm slide around his chest and her lips place a soft kiss on his shoulder.

 _Fuck_ her.

* * *

"I hope the schoolgirl romance was worth it," Joseph snapped coldly as he strode by his son who was lounging in their sitting room.

"You've already lectured me about this, father. Let's be done with it, yeah?"

Joseph stopped, his eyes narrowing on his son as hot anger burned through him. The absolute _insolence_ of the boy.

"We will be done with it," he started slowly, his voice venomous. "When I decide to be done with it. If you speak to me that way again I will be done with you entirely and you can escort yourself out of my home without returning. Feel free to take your worthless mother with you."

"You wouldn't disown me, father. I'm your only heir," he told him, looking up at him coldly.

Joseph chuckled darkly and he approached his son, cold humor filling his eyes. "For now. Do you think it would be very hard for me to find a younger, much more capable wife to bare me more children should I choose to do so? I've more than enough reason to throw your mother to the dogs of alleyways. Don't push me, Theodore."

"You wouldn't do that to her. You aren't that cruel. Not to your own family."

"She's not my family," he hissed. "She's a burden who has put you in danger."

His son shook his head, looking away from him. "I fancied Astoria before she put me up to anything."

"Oh you _fancied_ her," Joseph sneered. "How adorable. Of all the girls to fancy."

"She comes from a good family."

"Good family," Joseph scoffed, removing his cloak angrily.

"Mhm. Just because you have this feud with Freya Greengrass doesn't change the fact. It's not as if families never marry their children to those with parents they dislike."

"There are factors that go beyond my 'feud' with Freya that add to why Astoria would have never been married into this family. Now she's married into another, she belongs to another, and you've disrespected that instead of moving on like you should have if you had any sense at all. Her father is not likely to take that lightly and he's one of the men in our community to be cautious of." As if Joseph wanted Greengrass any closer to his family than absolutely necessary, but no. He lived with idiots.

"She came to me," Theodore snapped, "I did not force her here."

"Tell that to Greengrass, my brilliant son. I'm sure he will be quite understanding."

* * *

Ophelia had distanced herself from Edric, staying quiet during class and keeping to her work. She knew she was probably just being ridiculous, but she hadn't been able to help how spooked she had gotten from both the boy who had looked at her with such hatred as well as Edric and his lack of denial of murder of all things. She had to stop seeing him as her friend or someone who didn't have complete disgust for her very existence. She had to stop _fancying_ a boy who she would never have a chance with. Not even that she wouldn't have a chance, he'd probably spit at the thought of being with someone like her.

A poor, bastard mudblood.

He was interesting and charming, yes, just as well as he was polite, but he had been trained to act that way. Just as his little sister had said in the bookshop: they were not to say mudblood _in public_.

No, she would not become the brunt of his jokes with his nasty friends who held looks for her as that boy did or hatred like Charlotte Blythe did. Those were all his people, people he understood and got along with. Besides, it's not as if he seemed to mind when she had stopped speaking with him as much. She was sure he was very relieved actually.

Why was she thinking about this so much? She was sure he didn't think twice about her.

Which is why she had to let her little fascination for the Slytherin die and start seeing Samue; a Gryffindor boy in her year that had asked her to Hogsmeade one trip and had been talking to her more and more ever since. She did like him, he was very fun. Though, he was a bit cocky, and had a way of puffing out his chest at times in a rather pompous way. She did not find that attractive much, but she supposed she shouldn't be too picky. A good man was a good man, and he showed a lot of promise to be someone she could continue with after Hogwarts.

He was a decent kisser, which is what they were doing then in the hallways that night in-between their common rooms. He was a bit hands-on and careless as well as clumsy when touching her while they snogged, but it was still enjoyable. She felt his hands shove up her sweater and froze when she heard the sound of a throat clearing in front of them.

What time was it?  
She pushed Samuel away from her to look to the source of the interrupting noise, nearly dying at the sight. Of course it was him. Why wouldn't it be him? When did she not have such luck?

"It's after hours. Did you realize?" The Head Boy asked, his tone polite as it usually was, but the cold pleasantness of it took her off slightly and she stepped back a bit to press herself slightly into the wall, feeling intimidated and embarrassed.

"Right then, sorry 'bout that. Didn't realize. It can't be more than a few minutes past though, yeah? We'll be on our way then. Night, 'Phelia."

A low chuckle came from Edric and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Unfortunately, you're five minutes past actually, as well as being so openly intimate in the halls. I'd say that's worth.. Ten points for each minute, as well as one detention for each minute of your inappropriate relations that you deemed necessary to make so public."

Ophelia's mouth opened in shock, staring at the boy in front of her as Samuel began to protest loudly.

"I'd suggest you stop arguing and get to bed before I add more," he responded calmly, watching them until they separated themselves, both heading to their own common rooms.

"Goodnight, _'Phelia_ ," she heard Edric tell her back mockingly and she paused for a moment, considering turning around to tell him off before she resumed her pace, furious.

In class the next night Ophelia waited for it to end in agitation so she could confront her partner about his ridiculous punishment for such a minor offense. Once they had walked to their usual spot, a bit far from the castle itself, she threw her books down loudly, whirling on him and throwing her hands up, looking to his scowling face in response to her small tantrum.

"Well?" She demanded.

"Well what? Is there a problem with the books my mother paid for?"

Ophelia took a step back, feeling slightly dizzied with that cruel comment. He had never gone in that direction before.

"Come along, love. We don't have all night," he told her, raising an infuriating eyebrow at her.

"You know what I'm getting out," she grit out, looking away from him.

"Hmm. I do not."

"That exorbitant amount of punishment you-"

"Exorbitant? Be careful with those words. I'm not sure if your boyfriend is able to understand them."

Ophelia stared at him, realization coming over her at his behavior, his particularly rude statements towards her.

"If I didn't know any better, Edric," she said slowly. "I would say that you were jealous."

Humor touched his eyes and suddenly Ophelia was doubting her conclusion. What if he wasn't jealous at all and she had just made a total idiot of herself?

"Well I suppose it's a good thing you know better then, isn't it?"

"It's a figure of speech," she said shortly. "I think you _are_ jealous."

"Oh? I have to comment on your new show of bravery. Perhaps it's your Gryffindor idiot rubbing off on you. However, like a Gryffindor, your burst of confidence only makes you look a fool. Please tell me what he has that would warrant envy from me," he said smoothly, his icy eyes watching her intently.

She hesitated, suddenly quite insecure with him there, staring her down and telling her she appeared foolish.

"Speak up then. Where is the boldness that you had only a moment ago gone?"

She said nothing before she turned to pick up her books.

"You believe that I'm jealous because of you, no? That I'm envious of the fact that he has a mudblood to fornicate with?"

She froze, feeling her face crumble into hurt as he called her that word, that word she knew he used but it was much different hearing him actually use it against her. She turned to him, not caring that her face betrayed her feelings towards his comment.

"What is it? You don't like when I act like the mean pure-blood you've convinced yourself that I am? Hmm?" He asked, his tone light as he stepped towards her.

What did he mean by that? Act like? That's exactly what he was, and he was proving it.

"You're terribly transparent, I hope you know. First, you shuffle around me like a shy schoolgirl, blushing and hiding your face, and now you've decided that I'm much too frightening for you and you must try to get over your little obsession by distracting yourself with someone well below you," he went on, something new filling his eyes as he stepped towards her again.

"Below me? Are you truly saying that Samuel is _below me_? A, as you just stated, mudblood? Please. As if you don't already view me as below a stray dog. You couldn't even stand it when I had _touched_ you that day I had been startled!" She tried to snap the words, but her voice grew thick and she feared she may cry.

"You have no idea what I think or view you as, Ophelia. Do not try to tell me what's in my own head."

"So you deny being disgusted when I touched you?" She asked, shaking her head.

"That not what I said."

She closed her eyes, frustrated and pained by this humiliating game he was playing with her.

"Come here," he said simply, standing still.

"What?" She asked, nearly huffing in her exasperation.

"I won't repeat myself again. You believe I can't stand to touch you. Come here then."

Her stomach rolled in on itself at his words and a weird pulse of adrenaline came through her, causing her to shiver. She looked down at the small amount of distance between them, not sure what "here" meant. She stepped forward against her better judgement, closing most of the gap between them. Still, he waited, unmoving and seemingly not even breathing. She set her jaw and stepped forward again until their bodies were only inches apart and she had to tilt her head back to look up at him.

"No, I'm not jealous of him, Ophelia. But I don't share."

Ophelia opened her mouth to answer with her confusion when his hand came into her hair and his mouth came down on her parted lips, kissing her languidly. Her eyes widened before they fluttered closed as his lips possessed hers, careful yet hungry in their deliberate movements. She drew in a shuddering breath before she wrapped her arms around his neck eagerly, pushing herself closer to him and moving her lips compliantly against his. She felt his hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the nearby cluster of trees and out of sight as their kisses grew more feverish, urgent.

He pushed her roughly against one of the trees, grabbing her by her hips and pulling her slightly upwards so she'd wrap her legs around his waist. He hummed his approval when her legs were where he had silently directed her to put them and deepened their kiss again, tasting her as she tasted him, and God did she taste him. She felt his hands skim along the bottom of her sweater, his fingers moving along her bare skin there causing her to shiver and push slightly against his hands, wanting him to touch more of her. He was too good, much better than any other boy she had briefly dated in the past. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Ophelia silently mourned her satisfaction that she was receiving now that she'd likely never receive quite in the same way again with any other man. His hands brushed against her ribs now and she sighed against his lips before he broke from them as they moved to press just below her ear.

"Do you still believe that I can't stand to touch you?" He murmured against her skin and she shivered hard, drawing a chuckle from him before he placed an open mouthed kiss against the spot. She felt his teeth graze there lightly as her flesh was slightly pulled into his mouth. She felt her throat vibrate as she sounded her quiet approval before pulling her arms from his neck to run her hands up his chest, wanting to study every inch of him.

Before she realized it their clothes were being pushed aside and his hand was somewhere no man had ever been allowed to touch before, probing and invading. She moaned quietly and gripped onto his shoulders when his fingers rubbed against the most sensitive part of her, causing her to roll her hips against his hand. When he shifted himself and pulled his hand away once satisfied with her body's readiness to position himself in front of her he stopped, spotting the nervous anticipation on her face and slight stiffness of her body.

"You didn't tell me you were a virgin," he said gently, his tone almost remorseful.

She felt her face burn and she tried to gather her voice to respond, stopping when she saw the flash of possession in his eyes and she felt herself being moved from the tree. He laid her down slowly, pushing his cloak that she still wore outside with him off of her shoulders before dragging her down slightly so her head was resting on the fabric of the cloak and not the ground. When he kissed her again his mouth was soft, nearly sweet against hers now and she felt him tug her sweater off, unclothing her completely before covering her with his own body that somehow was also bare in the lengthy amount of time he had spent on her. Oddly, she didn't feel self conscious or exposed to the world as the whole time he was practically shielding her with his own cloak that draped over the sides of them as he settled over her.

Was she truly about to give her first time to this boy in such a way? He was about to screw her into the ground, the ground where his own felt she belonged, where he would likely leave her when he was done with her. Somehow, shamefully, this thought only burned her desire for him more and her arms went around his shoulders as she caught his lower lip between her teeth, urging him to give her more. His kisses turned from gentle to rough in response and she whimpered as his hips pushed down against hers, feeling the length of him against her flesh which burned in response of her need for him.

Once inside her he was still, having pulled his lips from hers to pepper kisses along her chest and collarbones. Her eyes moved up to the moon above them, her eyelids heavy before she closed them and arched her back, gasping as this urged him to rock forward slowly, beginning their rhythm. His fingers found that responsive place again and a much louder moan escaped her lips which he quieted with a kiss. She could feel the amused set of his mouth as he kissed her and she heard him cast a silencing spell over them when he broke away before quickening his pace considerably, their movements becoming more urgent as her body began to practically sing praises for him in its pleasure.

Yes, it was good he had covered their sounds as he was drawing quite noisy ones from her as they came closer to their peak. When she did reach her end she felt her body shake as she desperately pulled at his shoulders, her nails clawing into his skin before she cried his name, her head falling back and his lips ran across her pulse as she trembled beneath him.

Even after he himself was finished he continued to caress her as her body began to cool and relax, kissing her again for a while before he finally pulled away. She closed her eyes and waited for him, half expecting him to dress himself and leave her there to return to the castle alone. Instead, he slowly helped her dress first before himself, helping her up off of the ground and pulling the cloak back around her properly before quietly leading her back to the castle, neither of them speaking as he left her near her common room before returning to his own.

She stared forward, her mind pulling in a million directions before she forced herself into her common room, finding her friend waiting for her.

"Where have you been?! It's five minutes after hours! Didn't you _just_ get in trouble for - Oh. Oh no," Violet cut off, assessing the state she was in before rushing in front of her, an excited glint in her eye. "You did _not_ have sex tonight. With Samuel? Sorry, but I can't imagine that being very good, but you look like you had a thorough fu.. Wait. You're with Greengrass tonight after class. You had time to meet up with your boyfriend after that?"

Ophelia stared at her, sure she looked like a complete and utter mess as she looked at her friend with wide eyes, mortified and confused at what had gotten into both her and her Astronomy partner.

"Wait.." Violet said slowly, backing up a step before a slow build of giggles began. "You didn't.. I was just _kidding_! I didn't think you'd actually.. That _he'd_ actually. Holy shit!" Violet clapped her hands loudly, practically jumping all around and Ophelia caught her hands roughly, hissing at her to shut up.

"Cheating on your boyfriend with a pure-blood, prejudice Slytherin? Wow, I can't believe we are talking about you and not me!"

"I.. I didn't cheat," Ophelia managed miserably, an immense amount of guilt filling her at her friend's words. "We never confirmed our relationship status really.."

"Oh, no! No no. You _cheated_ ," her friend purred. "Don't play that innocent, you cold bitch. My sweet Ophelia is growing up, breaking hearts and all. Wait, did you honestly just lose your virginity _outside_?"


	36. Chapter 36

"She did what?" Narcissa stared at her son, putting a hand over her chest as she took in the information he was giving her from the strange Pensieve debacle.

Narcissa was appalled, yes, but she couldn't say she was really _surprised_ at Freya's actions. She had always expressed her distaste to Narcissa over her family and her home, and she knew her home life was unfavorable. Still, to take such a risk and to destroy such a historical and beautiful piece of property seemed a bit much to her, but then again her and Freya Greengrass were entirely different women. She glanced around the hallway to make sure Lucius was not within earshot, not needing him to know anything of the sort. He would surely use the information against the family, foolishly as he had lost most of his sense, and only make things worse for them and Narcissa was tired of things only getting worse.

"Mmm. Brought it to the ground, covered in blood as well from all the glass and bits flying everywhere. She laughed like a madwoman after, she reminded me a of your sister actually," her son drawled, glancing around the gloomy room.

"Oh Draco, Bella was nothing like Freya. Freya has some good in her, I remember, and she raised your beautiful wife," she scolded him. She had stopped caring to make excuses for Bellatrix long ago, tired of pretending her sister hadn't been completely far gone.

Draco snorted loudly. "My cheating wife. Please, let me continue before you start lecturing me on my supposed need to adore the snake."

Narcissa frowned at her son referring to Astoria as a snake. As if the girl had intentionally plotted to cheat on her son, as if any woman in their place would put themselves in such a position. The only thing most of them wished to do was make the best of their marriages, and Astoria had always been far too compliant to want to cheat on Draco and possibly get herself thrown out to the streets had Draco decided to react in the same way a lot of men did in such a circumstance.

Even so, she was angry at the girl for hurting her son, and she knew he was very hurt. He had changed drastically in just a few years, hardened by the war, but she still knew her own son better than anyone, better than himself. He was not nearly as unaffected as he tried to make himself appear, and he was not cruel in the way he'd like to believe he was. He was fragile and had a weak stomach. He acted like he only cared for himself and his own approval, but he had lived attempting to gain the approval from her husband only to be compared to another throughout his childhood. It was normal for the children of their community to be compared to one another, to be competitive with each other, but it was a different matter entirely to be degraded for not being as good as a boy who was not relevant to their world at all.

Now, he was being compared to Theodore Nott by his own wife, the woman meant to live only for him and one day their children. It was her only job besides acting well in public, not to say that it was an easy one, and she had failed it already. Again, Draco was left to feel not good enough to the one person he had at the Manor, and Narcissa knew how the Manor only grew darker in loneliness, the halls only hauntingly longer.

But she couldn't hate the girl. She related to her and she knew her intentions were good, better than some of the women in their community. Draco would forgive her, he was a forgiving man, and she could see how he held affection for Astoria. She knew he would when she had decided her a good match for him, which was well before their marriage and well before Draco had matured enough into the much more reasonable man he was now. She had always loved her son, but he had been quite the brat. She had herself to blame for that, and Lucius, as she had always coddled him out of guilt for how his father had made him so insecure about himself. She wanted him to feel like a King, he _was_ as good as a King to her, but to anyone else besides herself he was rather unbearable for most of his life.

"Greengrass murdered Nero Zabini."

Narcissa blinked, completely caught off guard by such an outlandish statement she would not have expected coming from Draco. Nero Zabini? Ah, that man had not been on her mind in quite some time.

"Really? How interesting. Why?" She asked, slightly dumbfounded. "That was so long ago."

"You don't seem very distraught over this, now do you?" Her son mumbled irritably. "I'm not sure why. He was blackmailing Greengrass, and apparently had something on Freya. I'm not sure what, unless he knew about her destroying the Krat property or that Auror she murdered."

"She murdered an Auror?!" Narcissa demanded, her eyebrows coming together as disapproval washed over her.

What was the matter with that woman?

"Why is that more of a problem to you than one of our _own_ being murdered?"

"Because she's a woman! That is not what we do," Narcissa huffed. "We don't destroy homes and murder people. Men exude violence in that way, not us. Women are meant to inflict revenge with our minds and wit."

Draco inhaled slowly through his nose, watching her with slightly irritated eyes. "Mother. What am I meant to do about Blaise? He witnessed all of it, and he certainly does not like Astoria at the moment."

Narcissa scoffed loudly. "What do you mean, Draco? You can't allow him to say anything. Your wife comes before your silly friend."

"Does she?" Draco muttered. "Blaise has never betrayed me, now has he?"

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at her son. "Don't you act like that," she growled. "Don't you act like a toddler about this. Until Blaise carries our name, Blaise is not meant to be put in front of any of us."

"Who is Mr. Zabini being put in front of?" Her husband's voice cut through the room as he entered and Narcissa stood, moving to help her husband on the couch beside her. "Is the new Mrs. Malfoy not to your liking Draco?"

"She's fine, father," Draco responded stiffly, his slightly relaxed posture straightening as his father's scrutinizing eyes fell on him.

Lucius hummed, sniffing and eyeing Draco with slight contempt. "She should be more than fine, but I wouldn't expect too much from the child of such people."

Narcissa smiled slightly, resting her hand on her husband's leg causing him to visibly relax, his face softening just a bit at her touch. "Your family was considering Freya for a moment, remember?"

Lucius scoffed loudly. "Ah, yes, before she was so openly inappropriate for being a young, pure-blood woman right in front of their faces. Yet, she acted properly in front of every other family, so it was _our_ name she had a problem with."

Narcissa's eyes unfocused as she thought of what he was referring to. Freya was definitely something at school, but in front of those who truly mattered she was near flawless in the eyes of the most important.

"She did that on purpose," Narcissa said quietly, feeling a bit of warmth in her chest for her old schoolmate.

"Exactly, Narcissa. I just said that," her husband quipped irritably. "Complete nonsense. Though she was on her best behavior for families much lower than our own. It made no sense at all, she was a fool."

"No, Lucius. It was when my.. When there was a scandal in the Black family, and Bella was also acting less than appropriate. Your parents were always close in acquaintance with mine, but during that time they began to consider other options. They were having second thoughts on whether or not I would be best, and then Freya's father began talking more with your parents.. She did that for me," Narcissa explained, her eyes still staring off as she remembered looking on as Freya acted much more _herself_ rather than the correct young woman she put on at such events in front of the Malfoys. She didn't do anything too outlandish, she just was not nearly up to par, and her father had been with them; absolutely fuming.

"How sweet," Lucius said, sneering the words slightly.

Lucius didn't like Freya for more than just that. She had disarmed him in front of his friends, and of course he couldn't stand Aldrich.

"It was sweet. I wasn't like her. You were who I was meant to marry from a young age. I never worked for any other family. I would have ended up disappointing my family had I lost you."

"Hmm. No other woman would have been better suited as my wife. It was fortunate my parents doubts were not long lived," Lucius said smoothly, his gaze falling over her with approval in his eyes that still had the power to make her nearly glow with pride.

He was returning to his old self. Slowly, but surely.

"Still," she offered fairly. "She could have taken you from me had she tried. The Malfoy family would have rivaled the Greengrass family in her father's eyes after she herself took the Nott family out entirely."

"Yes, well. I can't entirely despise the woman for that. Her betrayal of them certainly benefited us," he mused, a smirk gracing his tired and worn features.

Though what she had done had made no sense whatsoever and was something that always perplexed Narcissa. She thought of Freya writing to Aldrich's parents that day when Freya had betrayed the Nott family, the people she had given the family's secrets to.

Narcissa slowed as she entered the common room after coming from her dorm, spotting Freya sitting alone at the tables, stiffly writing a letter as her eyes seemed void of emotion. She had been acting so odd in the recent weeks and after openly breaking down and distancing herself she had lacked her usual feisty spirit. Narcissa felt a pang of guilt, knowing she should work harder at trying to find out what was wrong or at least tried to be there for her. Freya may not accept her as her friend openly, but out of every girl in their house Narcissa felt Freya the most real.

She came next to Freya slowly, looking over her shoulder to glance at the letter without reading it outright.

"Are you.. Writing to the Greengrass parents? About the Notts..?" Narcissa asked in confused alarm.

"Do you make a habit of reading people's personal letters, Black? You know what they say about curiosity and cats," Freya replied stiffly before signing her name and folding up the letter.

Freya sat up, her hands folding in her lap as she stared ahead in an eerie, lifeless way.

"You know they.. You know what that family is known for. What's going on? I know you and Joseph haven't been close.. But.."

Freya said nothing, ignoring her words and Narcissa swallowed, unsure of what to say. She shifted awkwardly where she stood, the silence hanging in the air for a long time. "Are you coming to breakfast?"

"No."

Narcissa looked down and nodded. "Okay. I'll see you after then," she told her, her voice small as she went to breakfast, only to find Freya in the same spot when she had returned, though the letter was no longer in her hand.

She scowled and went up to gather her things for her class that she had coming up, returning to Freya. "Aren't you going to get ready for class?"

Narcissa watched as a second year girl hurried over to Freya who didn't reply to Narcissa's question, handing her a letter before shuffling off and out quickly, the letter adorned with the Greengrass seal. There was a small box along with the letter that Narcissa noticed, and she craned her neck to see in her extreme curiosity. Freya unrolled the letter and there were only a small amount of words, enough for Narcissa to catch before Freya had burned the letter into ash.

"We are so delighted to see that you have chosen to play the game with us, Miss Krat.

Welcome to the family.

Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass"

Narcissa thought the words over to herself in shock and stared as Freya opened the box stoically to pluck a glittering engagement ring from it and slip it on her finger without even fully looking at it, the ring flashing with a glow of magic that sunk over her hand before disappearing. Families would sometimes provide the ring months prior to the marriage ceremony as a way of protecting their bride from ruining themselves or backing out of the arrangement by enchanting the rings until the ceremony was finished.

It seemed Freya's choice was final.

"Freya, I don't understand," Narcissa said, following Freya as she began to gather her things, seeming unfazed. "Why would you agree to this? The Notts would have been favored over them.. What did you tell them about the Notts? You _despise_ Aldrich, don't you? Why would you marry someone you can't stand over your _best friend_?"

Freya stopped as she was walking out of the common room as Narcissa addressed Joseph as her best friend. "You yourself said I had a hatred of men," Freya replied lightly, a cold humor in her voice. "What better way to see a man suffer than hurt the one that trusts me the most? I'm just a traitorous bitch, Black. Nothing more to it."

Freya left the common room, Narcissa following a bit behind as she watched her dumbfounded, confused thoughts running through her head.

"Good morning, Narcissa." Narcissa jumped at Joseph Nott's voice as it sounded beside her as she walked in front of him while watching his friend. "What's been going on with her? Do you know?" He motioned toward Freya, though he didn't seem fully engaged or concerned with the matter.

"No, I.. I'd imagine that I don't know nearly as much as her childhood friend," she mumbled, watching as Rhys crossed her to grab her arm in a concerned manner. Freya's left arm jerked and she grabbed her hand, pulling away from him and twisting the ring sorely around her finger.

Joseph was frozen next to her, his attention now completely on Freya as his eyes searched over her in bewilderment. "Who?" He asked her quietly, his tone holding an odd mixture of emotions.

"Greengrass," she responded, not looking at him as she began to step away from him.

"Why..?"

"I-I'm not sure, but I have to go. I'll be late," she spluttered, ducking her head guiltily as she left the concerned looking man.

"Yes it did," Narcissa agreed, clearing her memory as she sat next to her husband in front of our son. "The Notts are now below us in status, thanks to her."

* * *

Draco found Astoria balled up on the floor, her back pressed up against the couch with her arms wrapped around her legs as tears fell from her eyes.

"Draco, please, they won't stop," she whimpered and he stopped walking towards her as the Pensieve filled the room on its own accord.

A much younger Astoria weaved herself through the tables of a dinner party at the Blythe home, smacking into Joseph Nott as he was readying himself to sit down in his seat.

Astoria stumbled back dizzily and Joseph caught her arm before she fell, bringing a huff from the small girl's lips before she scowled up at him. "I apologize, _sir_ , but how come you are just standing there instead of sitting at the table?"

Joseph's eyebrow quirked and he straightened, releasing her arm. "I was not just standing here. I was preparing myself to sit down. Why are _you_ running about without watching yourself instead of sitting at your own table?"

"I'm running from my mother," she quipped back, tilting her chin up. "Then I'm going to find dessert. She won't let me eat any dessert! It's so stupid."

Joseph snorted slightly, sitting in his chair as his nose twitched while he tried to hide his amusement.

"If you see her, don't tell her you saw me. Okay? You have to keep my secret!"

"I can assure you that I won't be telling your mother anything, child."

"Good," Astoria answered sternly, nodding. "You don't want to anyway. She's mean. I guess we can be friends then. But only if you don't tell. Once you tell, you'll be sorry."

"Well, I certainly would not want to be sorry," he said quietly, pulling his glass closer in front of him.

Astoria examined his plate in front of him nosily. "Can I have that?" She asked, eyeing the elegant dessert there.

"Astoria," Edric Greengrass half groaned as he put his hand on his sister's back to push her forward and to the table where she was meant to be sitting. "You _may not_ go asking men for the food off of their plate. That is absolutely incorrect. Mother would kill you."

"He's my friend's father. Which means it's okay."

"No, that means it's even less okay. Besides, Nott isn't your friend, Astoria, and his father certainly doesn't like you enough to where it's acceptable for you to be asking for the food off of his plate."

"But I just want some cake, Edric," Astoria pouted. "Look. I ate the healthy stuff. May I _please_ just have some?"

"Not here. I'll give you something at home. Otherwise, it would just be taken from you as soon as mother sees you eating it."

"I hate her," Astoria grumbled. "She's so mean. Look, _she's_ a nice mother."

Astoria pointed to Narcissa with her son across the room and Edric smacked her hand down, ordering her not to point.

Astoria held her hand gingerly, looking up at her brother with big eyes as they began to water. "Yes, and her son is a twit. Obviously being a nice mother is not always the right way to go about things."

"That hurt.."

"It did not. Stop being dramatic, you know I see through it," Edric told her, rolling her eyes.

Astoria sniffled and looked down, holding her hand closer to her chest as her shoulders fell pitifully. Edric watched her dully before taking her hand and kissing it. "I'm sorry. Forgive me, alright? I'll get you a present next time I'm out if you forgive me."

"Okay! I forgive you," Astoria exclaimed, beaming. "At least I'm not stuck talking to a bunch of old people like Daphne."

"You will be stuck talking to 'old people' like Daphne soon, Astoria."  
"Stupid," Astoria grumbled, grabbing onto the sleeve of Edric's suit as she glared. "It's all so stupid. What's the point?"

"The point doesn't matter, Tori," he sighed before kissing her forehead. "It just is, so make the best of it."

When the memory cleared from the room Draco flicked his wand to cover the Pensieve, wincing at Astoria's choked cries as she seemed to be struggling very hard to hold them back. His chest ached slightly as he looked to her, curled in on herself as she held the sides of her head in distress, blatant pain etched deeply into her features. He strode over to her, picking her up from the floor to pull her into his arms as he sat on the couch, holding her in his lap. Her body trembled and he tugged her forward to lean into him as her body sat upon him stiffly before she relaxed enough to bury her face in his chest, giving in with a shudder.

"You shouldn't come down here with it," Draco sighed, hesitating before he rested his hand on her back to rub it lightly, her body moving unevenly as she would hold her breath for as long as she could in order to hold in her tears.

"You can cry, Astoria. I don't care if you cry."

Astoria shook her head furiously against his chest, curling her hands into his jacket tightly.

"You've cried in front of me before."

"I am not to cry over a blood traitor," she replied, her voice strangled as she forced the words from her mouth.

Draco said nothing as he stared ahead of them, unsure of what to make of her words. He wouldn't argue, and he wouldn't push her when it came to this.

"My mother was asking about you. She talks about you every time I see her," he told her, changing the subject completely in attempt to distract her.

He felt her hands relax slightly in his jacket and she sniffled quietly, listening to him.

"I'm not sure if it's the best place for them. I almost feel that the Manor is safer, but the Aurors and you are here, and my father is best not to appear in front of either of you. Though I will say he was seeming much more himself tonight. More himself than I've seen him in a long time. I don't want my mother there. She is fairing alright, she's a strong woman, but I know she is unhappy. She deserves to be happy. She's held my family together through such hard times," he murmured, finding himself rambling in his attempt to take his wife's mind off of her sorrows.

"She's lucky to have a son like you," Astoria whispered, adjusting herself in his lap before looking up at him, her eyes slightly reddened.

"Is she?" He thought he was a twit, according to her former sibling.

"Yes. Not all children know how to care for their parents properly, and you love your mother very much. I'm sure there is nothing more important to her that you could give her other than your love."

Love. Love had only mocked him in his experience with it, and he was tired of hearing of its supposed blessings.

"Are you finished with this now?" He asked, his voice clearing of the slightly vulnerable tone it had taken on before as he motioned to the two of them.

Astoria nodded, moving to remove herself from his lap before he held her there by her waist, examining her face. "I'm serious, Astoria. I don't want you down here alone, and I've told you before to stay in my bedroom when I'm not home. My room has more wards than any in this house. Why are you incapable of doing as you're told?"

She frowned, looking down. "I'm sorry. I just don't like being stuck in there by myself. You leave for long periods of time some days. What am I meant to do?"

"It doesn't matter. These are special circumstances. So many families are in hiding while we are not. We are in an old base camp for the Death Eaters, which means we are an even easier target. You have to suck it up, just as my mother is sucking it up. You need to be safe, and you need to listen to me. When this passes, if it passes, then things can change and you won't be locked up anymore. You'll be able to go out with friends and go shop or do whatever it is you women do all day."

"I don't know what I'd do all day," she replied quietly. "And I don't have any friends, Draco."

Draco rolled his eyes, of course. "Your sister then. Don't come back in whatever the hell she was wearing the other night though. It is not in my tastes."

Astoria's mouth twitched and she looked up at him, her eyes lifting at his words. "You would never see me in anything like that, I can assure you."

Draco nodded curtly before sliding her off of his lap as he stood. "Good. Now I need to go look at some things before we eat, but I'll meet you in the dining room in a bit. I'll have the house-elf inform you when I'm ready."

"Draco?" Her soft voice stopped him as he walked away from her towards his study.

"Mmm?"

"Thank you. Thank you for understanding."


	37. Chapter 37

Complete fucking rubbish.

That's what this was, these little "psychological observations" the Aurors were subjecting them to. Again, treating them as if they were animals as they loved to do.

"It is stated in your notes that you are rather cold towards people outside of those with a similar mindset to you, but to those you are close with you are a much different person. Why do you think that is?"

Was that a real question?

"Hmm. I'm not sure. It could be that I don't _like_ you and your people," Theodore responded flatly, his eyes narrowing slightly at the redheaded woman in front of him.

A mudblood, he guessed. At the very most a half-blood.

"I understand that, but still such a drastic change in personality is not regular behavior, even towards people you feel a dislike towards," she answered calmly, her patronizing voice cutting through his nerves like a knife.

"It's more than just dislike."

The woman moved her eyes up to watch him closely for a moment, studying him with a thoughtful gaze and he looked back at her light colored eyes with a flat expression.

"Your father has similar record of acting in such a way. The professors at Hogwarts have expressed surprise at his decision to follow Voldemort."

"Is there a reason to state your observations out loud to me as if they matter to me in any sort of way?"

"Where does the hiccup in your humanity come from? What happens to your morality when faced with muggle-borns and half-bloods that your complete and entire demeanor changes just at the simple knowledge of their lineage?"

"I told you," Theodore said slowly, leaning forward as he stared her down as if she were slow. "I don't _like_ you. You _disgust_ me. You have stollen the birth right of magic that was never yours. You're less than people."

"There we are. Less than people," she repeated, nodding. "You see those who are not pure-blood as inhuman, which is why there is this shutdown."

"Again, why do you feel it necessary to repeat your useless thoughts back to me?"

"Theodore, you are aware that the Aurors and myself are looking for signs that point in the direction of having relation to the current Death Eater rising, yes?"

"Yes," he answered irritably. Was she planning on saying anything that either of them didn't already know?  
"Then why are you not making an effort to sound less prejudiced and threatening?"

"Am I not meant to tell the truth?" He asked dully. "You'd think if I _was_ a part of them then I would be making an effort to hide it, no?"

"Hmm," the woman agreed, nodding. "Very good then. The more honest you are, the easier it for the both of us. So, is this what made you enjoy murdering the people Voldemort ordered you to murder? Or perhaps more than he ordered?"

Theodore considered this, feeling an odd discomfort fall over him. "I didn't enjoy it. I'm not a psychopath," he told her, grimacing. "I just did what I was meant to do. If I hadn't, I would have been killed."

"So it upset you? Was it hard for you?"

"No, I just.." Theodore looking up as he thought of how to explain himself. "I just shut my senses down and did it. Detached myself from what I was doing. A mundane chore."

The woman hummed oddly in what sounded to be almost approval. "The same way you detach yourself in terms of social skills when it comes to public encounters?"

"Mmm."

"But you didn't fancy murder?"

Theodore rolled his eyes. "No I didn't _fancy_ murder. I don't particular enjoy the sounds of screams or enjoy seeing blood and torture."

"That's good. Why did your family follow Voldemort then?"

"Why did your side follow the people it did? Did you fancy risking your life for Harry Potter? Did you have some emotional attachment to him? No, you thought his perspective was correct and you thought he would win. He won. We thought the Dark Lord would win. He didn't. However, we believed him to be the future, and why would we want to be on the losing side of _his_ future?"

The woman nodded again, the same thoughtful expression on her face.

Condescending bitch.

"Do you regret it?"

Theodore threw her a sneering look, his eyes dull. "Do I regret following a man who failed and made all of his followers to look like idiots?"

"Yes."

"Yes, of course we regret it. What's the next brilliant question?"

"Do you regret not being on the winning side?"

Theodore snorted loudly. "Absolutely not. Plenty of pure-blood families followed neither and are perfectly fine."

"Are they? Seems they are under target," she answered evenly.

"The answer is no. I'm not sitting around all day crying about how shitty of a person I am and how I should have kissed Harry Potter's feet before dying for some mudbloods."

The woman nodded once more and Theodore let his head fall back as he stared at the ceiling in irritation.

"You know, it's not wise for your little Auror friends to be allowing you alone with me, a man who has killed your kind."

"What do you believe I am?"

"No more than a half-blood, but I'm getting mudblood."

The woman was silent and Theodore raised his head to find her smirking down at her notes.

"What?"

"I don't know whether to be amused or offended," she replied, a soft laugh leaving her lips before she looked up to meet his gaze. "And what makes you assume that I'm a muggle-born?"

"Why would you not be one? Asking such nonsense," he muttered, further assessing the girl now that she was making him second guess his assumptions.

Perhaps she was much more well kept and better postured than most of the mudblood girls he had experienced. She certainly appeared to look more like a witch than them. He searched her simple robes, a bland uniform that went with her job, giving him nothing to go off of.

"Eld," she provided him, nodding slightly.

Theodore blinked slowly. "Eld," he repeated. "And what exactly are you doing here, working as some worthless Auror's assistant?"

"I'm not an Auror's assistant, Theodore," she replied evenly. "And I believe I am the one interviewing you."

Theodore eyed the woman again, his shoulders relaxing and the distaste in his mouth dissolving as he felt much more comfortable with those he understood, those he was familiar with. "So you're a blood traitor?"

"Blood traitor. I've heard it defined many ways. How would you define it?" She asked him thoughtfully, prepping her notes for his answer.

"If you're going to be this obnoxious I'm going to stop answering your questions properly," he said flatly, though his voice had lost its previous disgusted edge.

The Eld family was an old one, though not near his closer circle of pure-bloods, but known all the same. The family was much better known in Sweden, rather than there, which would explain the ever so slight accent to her voice.

"I'm not sure what you mean. I'm only asking you basic questions. Would you prefer personal?" She asked him quizzically.

"Hmm. Would _you_ prefer something more personal, love?" He asked her, raising an eyebrow at her as his lips twitched at a smirk.

She smiled knowingly in return and looked down as she wrote, looking pleased. "My name is Novalie. Feel free to use it if you feel so inclined."

"So, how do your parents feel about your career choice and the fact you're likely fucking muggles and mudbloods, Novalie?" He asked, noticing her face change slightly.

Ah, good to see she wasn't just a patronizing, fake creature.

"My parents are both dead. My grandparents raised me. They don't know what I do, and I don't plan on them knowing if I can help it. They simply believe I'm traveling, which I am. I don't sleep around with muggles or muggle-borns since you are so concerned, as I fully intend on returning to my life to not upset my grandparents," she told him calmly.

"So you're only _dabbling_ in being a blood traitor, and you feel it's wise to inform me of this?" He asked her, sitting back in his chair.

Novalie blinked, giving him a puzzled look. "Well, we can trust each other, can't we? I've shown you my trust, so now you I hope you feel much more comfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable. I'm aggravated. Dealing with a condescending, rebellious pure-blood girl is hardly how I want to spend my time. Why bother with this at all? What's the appeal?"

"You were uncomfortable," she corrected him. "Until you found that I was not a muggle-born, and yet one of your own. Which is an expected reaction, but the change in your eyes was quite drastic."

"Hmm. It's a wonder why one would feel more comfortable with those they're familiar than those they despite, isn't it?" He asked dryly.

"I've just always been interested. Especially in the pure-blood community, from circle to circle. I hope to get my fill before I settle down properly," she told him, tilting her head slightly. "Speaking of that and blood traitors. The Aurors feel I might relate too much as well as sympathize to the point I may not properly report real threats, so they are seeking to gain a second opinion from a muggle-born. They are having a hard time with that one. Not a lot of muggle-born psychologists wish to be around former Death Eaters. I can't imagine why, can you?"

Theodore shook his head. "They must not mind putting their employees at risk."

"No, they are not as concerned as they should be. I suppose they feel that since they defeated the Death Eaters in the first place that they are less threatening than they actually are. However, they didn't factor in all of the families who weren't Death Eaters, but simply don't appreciate being poked and prodded at."

"They are notorious for being overconfident. No attraction for any of those..? Well, I don't know if I'd call them men, but you seem aching to escape your traditions."

"Not at all actually," she replied, considering his words. "I.. Don't agree with everything we as a whole stand for, but at the end of the day it is me. It is my upbringing, and pure-blood men are the men I know and am comfortable with. Well, the ones closer to my family's type. Definitely not some of the more questionable such as some of the pure-bloods here. Trust me, I've seen questionable in my time of curiosity. It is quite difficult to mix such different backgrounds. Yes, you can love someone, but it goes beyond that. It comes down to how you act in public, friendships, how arguments are handled, how the children will be raised. It works for some, but I don't see it working for me. I have met some decent men outside of our world, but none that I would pursue. It's just not worth everything that is lost."

Theodore listened, slightly surprised she had answered him properly. He much preferred being spoken to as an equal, rather than a subject.

Well, that's most likely why she was speaking to him as an equal now, wasn't it?

"I suppose I understand, though I can assure you I have never had eyes for any mudbloods. However, now that I know you aren't one and I'm getting a better look at you.." He said suggestively, noting the bluish green color of her eyes.

The wrong color of blue.

Novalie paused, glancing beside her before looking to him again. "They have been trying to get this muggle-born psychologist, she's a bit off of the grid, but it's very interesting," she said, leaning forward slightly as a slight mischievous look touched her eyes. "Her name is Greengrass." She sat back up, raising her eyebrows at him slightly. "Perhaps it's a coincidence. I don't know too much about the family, seeing as I did not really grow up around the families here. I know there is an extension of them outside of the ones who live around here, but I find it curious."

* * *

 

"Freya. I have a suggestion, and I doubt you'll like it knowing you're type, but I think you ought to consider it," the Astronomy professor told Freya as she stood before her after class with her usual pile of questions. "Perhaps taking a muggle class during your summer vacation would allow you to further your knowledge on the matter. It is an area muggles' knowledge surpasses ours."

Freya stared at her before an absurd snort escaped her, eyeing the witch up and down. Was she completely mad?

"And how do you suppose I go about that, professor? Yes, I'll just go attend some muggle school right by my house. I'm sure that will go unnoticed by everyone."

"I understand you and your types have your rules, but it's something to think about, my dear. You're my best student and I'd like you to learn beyond what I can teach you. You're passionate. That is worth something. If you consider it, I'm happy to help, but if you'd like to look yourself there are books in the library that go along with Muggle Studies. Goodnight, Miss Krat," she said brightly, grabbing her things before leaving her alone in the tower, not answering any of her questions.

She loved her Astronomy professor, but she was absurd most of the time.

Freya stared at the night sky for a while, breathing in the crisp night air calmly as she observed the stars, closing her eyes. She only had one more year after this one at Hogwarts before she would be permanently stuck in the world she despised more than anything. No escape from the plastered smiles and fake pleasantries, no uniforms to separate the competition of fashion and wealth.

At least she would be married and away from her home. She would have a new home, a new name, and she could forget everything from her previous life.

No, she wouldn't forget. As if she could ever forget.

Freya shoved herself away from the tower, going down the stairs to return back to her common room to find her friend, and likely future husband, sitting on one of the couches reading a letter. She dropped her stuff on the floor beside him, sitting next to him close enough so their legs were pressed against each other, looking over to read his letter. He flipped it over and set it on the table, looking to meet her eyes. "No need to be sticking your nose into my business, Freya," he told her, though his voice was lighthearted.

"And why not? You know all of my business," she quipped, reaching for the letter before it was levitated away from her before he plucked it out of the air and shoved it into his pocket.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing the base of her ponytail before pulling her hair through her fingers as she watched him, eyeing the unusual darkness that had been growing in his features.

She didn't like it. Not at all.

"Don't let them, this," she started, looking down as she tried to think of the words to give him. "Don't let this.. What you're doing. Change you, Joseph."

"Are you getting soft on me, Krat?" He snorted, raising an eyebrow at her. "Going to profess your love for me too?"

Freya narrowed her eyes at him, her jaw setting in irritation. She shook her head, reaching down to grab her things before he grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Sorry. I get it, alright? I'm fine. Don't worry about me, I know you need me," he told her, smirking.

"I believe it's you who needs me," she mumbled, jerking her arm away.

Joseph frowned as he considered this. "You're right. So don't go soft on me, and don't let anyone break you before you're my actual responsibility."

"Break me," she scoffed. "Impossible. Have we even met before?"

He leaned back against the couch, his eyelids falling slightly in apparent tiredness. Her eyes fell to his lap and they were silent for a while along with the room besides a couple of third years in the corner, chattering quietly to themselves.

"Sometimes I just want to leave. Everything," she said quietly, staring off.

"Nobody leaves, Freya. They are only cast out. Don't try to leave. For both of our sakes."

"I won't actually try to leave," she answered coolly. "You know I won't. I'm only saying. Sometimes I wish to."

"Hmm. As long as you don't do anything stupid."

" _You're_ being stupid," she ground out, looking to him now, her worry and resentment for his recent involvement in his nonsense filling her tone. "What you're doing now is stupid."

Joseph's lip curled and he sneered at her, standing abruptly and Freya flinched naturally at his sudden, angry movement. "Isn't that why you stick to my side? Because I'm stupid? I don't fall under the category of 'intelligent men' that you fear so?"

Joseph didn't wait for a response before he turned and left her there as she stared at his retreating figure, her eyebrows coming together in her anger as well as her desire to correct him. No, she didn't consider Joseph to be very intelligent, but he certainly wasn't stupid.

And he was all she had.

She was staring into the Nott's fireplace during Spring Break, where she spent most of her vacations when she listened to Abigail Nott enter the room.

"Abigail," she began to Joseph's mother, not looking from the fireplace. "Your investments in the muggle world.. Where are they located again?"

She attempted to keep her tone simply curious and neutral, as if she were making small talk, but she felt her stomach act up in her nervousness as alarms went off in her head.

She shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't even be thinking of this, shouldn't be considering this. This was _stupid._ She wasn't this stupid was she? How was a hobby even worth this? It was just for a bloody class she was interested in.

She would never have a chance at education again if she didn't..

"In the United States of America, darling. Mississippi. Well, the base of it anyway as the location itself doesn't have much money coming out of it. Don't ask me all of the fine details, it isn't me who handles that after all. Horrid place, but we couldn't very well choose somewhere decent now could we? No, no one would ever guess that location, especially with the practically nonexistent magical community there," she told her, sounding casual much to Freya's relief.

"How do you get there? Surely apparition would be much too dangerous for somewhere that far."

"We have a few portkeys in the office that lead to the building we have there. I try to avoid it as much as possible. Truly, it's very bizarre there, a nightmare really. The muggles are _far_ worse than our own muggles. Sorry, love. If you're looking for an easy trip to America I wouldn't recommend ours. However, the money coming from them is useful, and surprisingly enough there is even a bit of profit transferring muggle money to our own."

"Aren't you ever worried you will get caught? I mean.. Should the pure-blood community find out.." Freya said slowly, nervous for her friend's family for even trusting Freya, though she knew she'd never expose them. Not after everything they had done for her over the years.

"We've been doing this for a while, dear. No need to worry for us! Make no mistake, our whole community is based on mostly lies and secrets. It's only a matter of who keeps the best ones," Abigail told her, winking at her before checking her face in the mirror. "Come now, help me set up some of the decorations."

Once summer arrived, Freya found herself entering the muggle school, her stomach tearing itself apart in her nerves.

She should _not_ be there. She was going to get _caught_.

No, she had to go through with this. She had put too much work into getting to this point, and she had already risked asking for help from her Astronomy professor to back down now. She wouldn't get caught, she never got caught. She was smarter than that.

Secrets were all a part of the game, no?

Getting into the school had been a much more difficult task than she had expected. Apparently her age was lower than required, apparently she needed this and that, apparently she had needed many things that she of course had no record of. Which was fine, a lot of forgery had been involved. No matter. Her professor had a bit of experience in the field of sneaking students into muggle schools.

Still, as much as she wanted to trust the woman, it was still driving her mad with anxiety that she knew this about her. What would happen if she were to be found out? It wouldn't merit being disowned, no, but it certainly would be a scandal, and it certainly would get her hurt. She didn't want to think of what her father would do should he ever find out about this. Something like this would lose her all of her current potential husbands, most likely Joseph as well, and she'd have to settle for much, much lower.

She didn't want lower. If she was going to be miserable, she wanted to be the best of the miserables.

It was just _one_ class.. It wasn't as if she were here for the _muggles._

She wouldn't get caught, no. She didn't tell her professor which school or too many details. She had only asked her for small amounts of information on how to go about getting to where she was now. Her teacher seemed mad enough that no one would believe her anyway, or at least think her confused.

She was safe. She needed to calm down.

She found the classroom she had been looking for at last and slipped into it quietly. She had been trying quite hard not to gawk around her like an idiot at the incredibly strange environment. It truly couldn't be more unfamiliar or odd, and she didn't try to look at anything for too long as to not stick out and look like an absolute idiot. Her eyes grazed the off looking seats quickly, immediately feeling all of the male gazes on her as they moved up and down her body.

Hmm. Seemed all types of males acted the same.

She had clothed herself in the most muggle-close dress she could manage, but she quickly learned based on the females she had glanced at on her way through the building that she definitely did not match them. She was also a bit over dressed. At least she had not attempted to wear robes..

She heard a few low whistles and she grimaced. Did these muggles honestly believe she would respond to such advances? The class was rather small, and there were only a couple of women that she could count. Mostly men, and only a few open seats, most of the seats between the men eyeballing her. Her eyes fell to the seat in the very corner, next to a dark skinned man who was probably the most attractive muggle in the room, as well as the only man not violating her with his eyes. Yes, if she sat there she'd only have to sit beside _one_ muggle. She could handle one.

She moved towards the seat, quietly setting her bag down before sitting. She audibly heard people turn in their seats to look at her with odd expressions on their faces. Freya suddenly felt very insecure in her own skin under the judgement of these strange looking muggles but she forced herself to keep her chin high, narrowing her eyes at some of the stares.

What the fuck did they _want_?

She glanced over at the man next to her whose eyebrows were now raised at her, a small and amused smile tilting the corners of his mouth up. "You're really gonna sit there?"

"What?" She demanded. "What is it? Honestly, is there something wrong with where I've chosen to sit? I was truly only trying to avoid the hideous men up there who appear to believe that they could _ever_ have a chance to even come near me." Freya paused to look all of the men in the eye before pulling the hair of her ponytail through her fingers as she scoffed before looking to the man beside her again challengingly.

The class filled with disgusted mutters and she heard some of the men snap nasty remarks back, though their alarming accents distracted her more than their words.

The man beside her held up his hands in surrender, leaning back slightly before nodding his head once in respect, his expression still amused and surprised. "No problems here, honey," he answered, his voice a low and natural drawl.

"Lovely," she responded, her voice clipped.

"Now students, we are now in the seventies for Christ's sake. Eyes up here, please. Class is about to start," the teacher, Mr. Smith according to the board, said loudly to them as he put his things down on his desk. "Get your supplies out."

Freya frowned when she saw everyone pull out their odd looking parchment and writing sticks. Of course, she had forgotten about this.

"Unprepared on the first day of class? C'mon now."

She glanced at the man to see him holding out a handful of the muggle parchment to her and in the other hand a writing stick. _Pencil_ , she remembered. She took the materials from him, her lips pressed together.

"Thank you," she told him, forcing her voice to stay comfortable though she felt off being polite to a muggle.

"Anytime," he told her, flashing her a wide smile, a sincere warmth in his eyes. "I'm Abe."

"Freya," she replied after taking a breath. Had she thought she wouldn't have to at least speak with a few muggles?

One muggle. Just one. She could do that.

After class, Freya was wandering around outside, squinting at the map she was attempting to follow to find the muggle hotel she was supposed to stay at. She huffed and wiped the sweat from her forehead, staring disgusted at her hand when she pulled it away. It was so _hot_ here and the air was almost _wet_. She could barely bloody breathe! And it was the night. What business did the night have being so hot?

"Where you off to and why're you out here at this time wearin' what you're wearin'?"

Freya jumped and turned around to see Abe, his face bewildered and slightly concerned.

"I'm not sure what you mean by what I'm wearing, but I'm looking for this," she told him, moving beside him to point to the location on the map she was searching for.

Abe took the map, giving her an odd look as he held it up to his face before his lips twitched with amusement. "Ah.. This map is old. Very old. Where did you come across this?"

Freya scowled, snatching the map from him in frustration. "Does it matter? Are you saying it's inaccurate?"

"Uh.. Yes."

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her palms to her forehead in frustration. Why was this so hard? Why was the class so confusing? Why were _muggles_ so hard to understand?

"Well could you at least point me in the direction of the nearest place I can stay?" She asked him tightly.

"Hey, don't worry. I won't let you get lost. Well, from now on anyway. You're exactly where you should not be at the moment. You do not want to be 'round here with my mama's mortgage hangin' from your neck. Not at this time of night."

She looked down at her necklace then back up to him, saying nothing in reply.

"Nearest hotel? Eh.. How much money d'you have?" He asked her, rubbing the back of his neck.

She opened her purse to pull out the thick pile of muggle money which was made out of an odd paper material. His eyes widened and he pushed her hands down in her purse gently in alarm. "Alright! Keep that out of sight, don't need anyone to see that. Sorry," he said, his voice becoming sheepish when he looked at his hands on hers, pulling away. "Really. Not a good part of town to be pullin' that out. But.. Good. You don't want to stay 'round here. I'll take you where you belong."

"Where I belong?" She asked, stepping back from him.

"Where you belong," he confirmed, half chuckling. "C'mon. The nicer part of town is that way." He motioned with a jerk of his head, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked in the direction.

Freya didn't move for a moment, thinking of how a muggle had just touched her. Skin to skin contact. Ah, if Joseph could see her now..

She pushed herself forward, walking swiftly to catch up with him, The streets were quiet, and she only saw a few muggles lurking in the shadows here and there. The houses were all close together and very, very poor looking.

She saw him looking at her from the corner of his eye before he tilted his head slightly, looking appreciative. "You know, for a lost girl you sure look like you know exactly where you're headed."

"Well I _did_ know where I was going according to my map," she sniffed, wondering how she was going to get anywhere now.

"You sure did," he chuckled. "That's a nice accent. Why you in Mississippi?"

"To take this class."  
"One class?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Uhh.. And they didn't have have that one class where you're from?"

"Well," she said slowly. "I wanted to see America."

"So you come to Mississippi to do it?"

"Yes. I was told it was very beautiful," she insisted, nodding confidently.

"Ah huh.. Alright then. Alone?"

"Indeed."

He shook his head in disbelief, muttering something under his breath. "Your family let you off to another country alone and by yourself? With nothing but.. More money than I've ever seen in one place and the clothes on your back? Oh, let's not forget your outdated map."

"I'm a big girl. I can handle myself," she responded firmly.

"You're somethin', Freya. I'll give you that," he breathed, shaking his head yet again.

She smirked to him, tilting her head. "I try my best."

He blinked at her change of tone and gave her a lazy grin in response, looking ahead. "My baby sister would lose her mind if she heard you talk. She goes crazy over accents, and we don't get too many different ones."

"Well I suppose I ought to meet her then," she replied without thinking, not sure why she'd offer to meet a child muggle for no reason.

He looked at her with a puzzled expression, though still the small, amused smile stayed on his face. "Whatever you say."

As they approached a more full part of the muggle area, she noticed small shops and several more muggles, the area better lit than where she had been before. She found everyone staring at her, again, judgement all over their faces.

What was going on with them? Did she truly stick out _that_ much? It's as if they could sense she was not a muggle like them.

She yelped loudly and jumped back into her walking companion as her thoughts were broken when one of the strange muggle carriages sped past her, loud and even stranger looking than the couple of muggle ones she had seen in her lifetime.

She felt his strong and sure hands on her as he caught her when she practically jumped into his arms, helping to steady her. "You alright there?" He asked her, his voice confused and she looked up to see him glancing around. She followed his eyes, seeing some of the muggles outright glaring at them.

She turned to him, motioning to the muggles around them. "What is their problem?!" She demanded, glaring fiercely at an elderly couple who had stopped to stare at them in disgust.

"Ah.. Mississippi is a bit behind on the times, honey. A white woman walkin' next to a black man in _this_ part of town?"

"A.. What?" She asked, her facial features scrunching together. "This is about.. What?"

"Maybe I should have been born wherever you come from because you seem real and honest to God confused at the idea."

How had she not read this? Heard about this? Muggles had a problem with difference in skin color? "They're staring because you have dark skin and I have pale skin?"

"The palest I've ever seen actually. Do you even _see_ sun where you're from?"

"That's the most _ridiculous_ thing I've ever head," she scoffed loudly, ignoring his comment before turning forward again, staring at the muggles daringly before taking his arm, walking considerably closer to him.

He said nothing, but he expressed his surprise in his warm expression before he settled back into walking with her, seemingly trying to ignore the dark stares they were receiving.

"Here," he said, nodding to the large building in front of them. The hotel.

"Thank you," she sighed, looking through her purse and offering him whatever piece of paper money she grabbed first.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Keep that. I don't want your money."

"Alright.." She responded, putting it away. What did he want then?

He began to back away slowly, his lazy grin returning. "I'll see you tomorrow, Freya."

"Wait," she said frowning, looking around. "How do I get back..? Can you give me directions?"

He seemed to hesitate, looking beside her before back to her, his dark eyes searching hers kindly. "I'll walk with you. I'll meet you here thirty minutes before class, alright?"

Freya sucked in a relieved breath, nodding gratefully. She was thankful for her muggle.

* * *

 

"You can't be serious," Draco sneered to the Auror in front of him, his eyes narrowing. "Is that not what you've been doing to us the entire time? Analyzing us and writing shit down?"

Astoria frowned at Draco, attempting to hide her disapproval for how he chose to react to the Aurors. If they wanted the Aurors on their side, they had to be friendly and polite. They had to _work_ with the Aurors, no matter how incredibly irritating they really were.

"Well, yes, Malfoy. However, we are not psychologists, and we have yet to find much that is useful. So obviously we are not observing you correctly. It shouldn't be much different from just speaking with us, really," Granger responded calmly beside Dine.

Dine was easily Astoria's favorite out of all of them. He was quiet and she never saw judgment in his eyes. He simply did his job. An actual professional, unlike most of them.

"How much more of your presence will we have to put up with exactly? You practically live here," Draco said through his teeth, his body tense.

It was understandable, his reaction. He was fed up, as they all were. Astoria shifted closer to him, her leg brushing his in an attempt to comfort him just a bit. Though perhaps she'd make it worse, depending on his mood. He seemed to struggle with himself on whether he was still completely furious with her or if he was alright with her.

He had comforted her though, and that was something. Everything, actually. She didn't know what she would have done had he not helped her out of that. _That_ adding to the list of things she refused to think about, along with the reason Draco was resentful towards her in the first place. No, she didn't need to think of any of it, and she would be just fine.

"Until we get to the bottom of this, Malfoy," Granger replied, her voice irritated. "We don't enjoy this any more than you do. We don't want to be around you all, especially not me; a muggle-born. We're only trying to do our job. Besides, your much safer with us coming around frequently. You should be a bit grateful for that."

"Grateful," Draco repeated. "Sure. So grateful. I absolutely love having holier-than-thou Gryffindors in my face in my own home for weeks upon weeks now."

"We understand why you have to do what you have to do, Hermione," Astoria said, smiling to her.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her before rolling them, shifting away from her. Astoria tried not to let her face fall, sighing inwardly. She was only trying to help them and their family, their small family of the two of them. There was a reason her family stayed out of trouble and suspicion. They knew how to act in these situations, _she_ knew how to act in this situations. She had no idea how Draco must have acted when she was not allowed to be downstairs when the Aurors were there, but she could imagine he acted even less friendly than he did around her and no longer fuming from the recent events of her infidelity.

"No need to get angry at your wife for being reasonable," Granger snapped. "Honestly, you're horrible aren't you? She's much too good for you."

Why did she find it necessary to defend her all of the time? Did she think it did Astoria any good? She wondered how Granger was in romantic relationships, if she was always this snappy. She wondered what it would be like for it to be acceptable to be this snappy with her husband. She occasionally had the desire to snap at him, but she didn't see how it would help. Granger certainly didn't help when she snapped at Draco for her.

"Granger," Draco drawled, watching her with a dull expression. "Is it your job to critique the relationship I have with my wife? Is that what you're trained to do? Well, no wonder nothing has been done after weeks of this nonsense."

Granger shook her head, looking slightly rattled. She truly should learn to control her emotions a bit better, always getting ruffled over the smallest things regarding Astoria and Draco.

"When will we be assessed?" Astoria asked her curiously. She didn't really mind. It was basically what the Aurors had been doing. Annoying, but bearable.

"I'm not completely sure. They only have a couple psychologists at the moment, and I believe they are trying to get.. Different types. To get different opinions."

"Different types?"


	38. Chapter 38

Freya followed Abe out of their class days later, her head spinning in her frustration as it had been after every night of class. She'd never had a class so confusing and she had so many questions, too many. She had practically had her hand in the air the entire duration of the class, the other students mocking her accent obnoxiously whenever she spoke. Had these muggles never traveled to result in them finding people from other parts of the world so alarming to listen to?

Well, no, she supposed they hadn't. Abe had said they didn't get too many accents here. These muggles seemed incredibly closed off from the rest of the world it seemed. Was it truly that hard to travel as a muggle? It would certainly take longer, but not going anywhere besides this small, stuffy and hot town seemed quite outlandish to her.

Everything about these muggles seemed outlandish to her, but admittedly there was something quite thrilling about experiencing so many new things. She had never particularly cared very much about the extreme hatred for muggles that many pure-bloods had. She never disagreed, but she never found herself invested in the strong emotions towards anyone outside of their world. They were always simply separate; on the other side, the side she didn't need to bother with.

Obviously muggles weren't complete animals as they were apparently highly functioning with their confusing inventions and difficult academics. They were mostly intolerable, however. They were either sickeningly friendly or nasty and rude, and she couldn't understand the class dynamics. She recognized the poor from the lesser of the poor, as she could not find any families that would ever come near her own community of wealthy people, but still how they navigated themselves didn't make much sense with her. There was also a large difference how the muggles reacted to her presence when she was with her muggle and when she was without.

Her muggle was quite pleasant, and she was thankful he took the time to help her to and from their class together, but he puzzled more than any of the others. He offered her so much kindness, but truly seemed to expect nothing in return. He didn't express a large desire for her in a sexual sense, he received odd and negative looks from the muggles around them when he walked with her, he didn't _gain_ anything from helping her. What perplexed her even more so was his eyes and overall demeanor. There was nothing behind his eyes that held any ulterior motive or coldness, no secrets or ill intent.

He was simply _good_.

She was not used to men such as him, and she didn't know what to make of it. She did know that she was starting to get too used to his company, and beginning to soften around him in a way she should not be softening around any man and _of course_ not around a muggle. She was beginning to lose a bit of her edge, and she would need it for when she returned to the Nott's for the dinner party the Flints were putting on later in the week. Joseph's parents were rarely home, and if they were it was only to attend what they needed to attend. Freya spent the majority of her summer's at his home, and both her father and brother were in Germany at the moment. Her brother had been married in the previous summer, and his attention to Freya had lessened since then.

Freya's stomach growled and she glanced down at it irritably, looking back up and squinting into the night as she ignored it. She had eaten here and there, fruit mostly, though the options that the muggle services at her hotel held were definitely lacking in what she allowed herself to eat when she did.

"Your stomach don't seem happy," Abe commented, nodding towards her body.

"It does that," she replied, eyeing the trees as they walked leisurely, enjoying the difference in scenery from her own home.

"Yeah. When you're hungry. What'd you eat today? You look awful skinny, I don't mean no disrespect, but I need to make sure they're feedin' you up in that hotel. I don't imagine you wanderin' very far from it."

"Oh, I had an orange. The food here confuses me, and there is really nothing that looks very healthy or appealing. At least at that hotel. I tried to get some tea, but what they gave me was not.. tea.." she said slowly, squinting as she remembered the strange drink they had provided her with.

"An orange," he repeated slowly. "Alright, let's go get some food in you."

"That's.." She started to protest before trailing off. She _was_ getting tired of that room she had been stuck in, and she supposed it wouldn't do her any harm to explore just a bit more of the town. She had already befriended a muggle. The damage had been done.

"Now just a warning: I can't take you nowhere Calvin Smith can take you, so don't expect anything to match those earrings you got," he told her, grinning sheepishly as he motioned to her ears.

"Who?"

"Smith. The rich white boy, sits in the front of the class. Always got his nose up in the air, kinda like you 'cept it's not as pretty when he does it," he answered, giving her an innocent wink. "He was the one who suggested you should just pay for your own private class."

"Oh," she said flatly, wrinkling her nose slightly. "That one. Rich?" She snorted. "Where do you gather? I saw no evidence of wealth _or_ class." Yes, he was one of the worst offenders of those who took their time looking her up and down as if she were a party favor every time she entered the room.

"His family owns all that property up the road. A farming family. That family has a lot of influence over the town, and they just love lettin' everyone know. What d'you mean no class? Class doesn't come automatically with money, honey."

"I'm not impressed, and I can assure you I wouldn't be impressed with wherever he would choose to take me to eat, should I ever let him near me. Which I would never, just for the record."

"Not sure whether to feel better that you're not impressed, or worse that you're turnin' your nose up at one of the richer families 'round here. He could buy my life, I hate to say," he said solemnly, his nose twitching. "Could never buy me though. I'm not up for sale."

"I could buy his," she responded simply before studying his face. "That's a good attitude to have. I hope you mean that. Too many people allow themselves to be owned by money."

"Money is powerful, but not as powerful as what's most important. I don't need power if I got my family and my dignity," he told her firmly, though his gentle facial expression kept the mood from growing too serious.

"Good. I don't have either, and I can tell you from experience that money doesn't fill those holes," she said softly, surprising herself with her vulnerable tone.

He stopped walking, watching her for a moment, concern growing in his eyes. "What does that mean, Freya? Explain all that. You can't say somethin' like that and just leave it."

Freya stopped walking as well, frowning at his reaction. "What do you mean? It's nothing," she told him.

"Like hell it's nothing. You never told me anything about having no family or dignity, and I would've never guessed it myself."

Freya shifted, uncomfortable by his alarm and worried expression. He barely knew her, and even those who did never acted this way when she made such comments. "Perhaps later. I thought you were going to feed me," she said, grimacing at an insect that flew around her face. "Come along then before I decide that it's a waste of my time."

He opened his mouth before closing it again, seeming to accept this answer before his face fell back into it's usual relaxed smile. "Waste of your time? C'mon, honey. You know all you'd be doing is sittin' up in that hotel room trynna figure out the homework that I know you can't understand one bit."

Freya gave him a withering look as they began to walk again, aggravated that his words were true. "I'm trying my best. I've never had trouble like this in a class before.. Especially this subject," she sighed.

"I see you tryin' your best. I admire it. I don't think you're stupid, don't think that. Actually, I reckon you're smarter than most of the folks in that room. At least you care enough to put yourself out there and ask questions. At least you are ambitious enough to get yourself in that class in the first place even though it seems to me like you'd never have to work a day in your life, and you're a woman at that. You don't see too many ladies in that class. Now, I won't say it makes sense, you don't make sense if I'm honest, but I will say it's respectable," he told her, looking at her with open admiration that almost gave her a shy feeling.

"So, what I'm gathering from that is 'it's cute that you try'. In summary."

A wide and slow smile spread across his face and he bobbed his head in a nod. "In summary. But I can help you, if you want. We can work on the homework together."

"That would be.. Yes, yes that would be good. Where? My hotel or your home?"

"My house would be preferred. Here, let's go there instead. Mama will have food for you. Don't be stickin' your nose up at it though unless you wanna hear about, just a suggestion," he told her, changing direction.

"You want me to meet your mother?" She asked, glancing down at herself. "Well, this isn't really something I'd meet parents in."

"You're dressed like you're going to some snooty country club every day, Freya. The hell you on about?"

Freya pressed her lips together and said nothing, following her muggle into the same area of houses he had directed her away from the first night she had arrived.

"I thought you told me not to be in this area," she pointed out, looking up at him.

He smiled at her, nudging into her slightly with his shoulder. "You think I'd let anyone hurt you? C'mon, I got you. No one's gonna bother you with me around, promise."

"Hmm," she replied, grasping onto his upper arm as she looked around. The deeper they walked into this area, the more poorly lit it was, and she couldn't see much apart from shadowy figures.

"Now I'm just gonna excuse my mama now. She means well but she sure can be prickly, and she won't be expectin' you. And Faith. Bless her," he explained, letting out a low chuckle.

"Yes, Faith is your sister. I remember you told me," she answered, nodding. "She won't like me?"

"Faith? She'll love you. You'll see. Mama? Ehhh.. She don't like too many."

Abe opened a short fence to a path that ran up to an old and worn porch, waiting for her to step inside the fence before closing it again, striding up the porch to open the door for her. Freya stepped inside the small home, the smell of food coating her nose, food she could not even begin to recognize. The family obviously had very little money, and Freya supposed she should find the poor and small home distasteful, but instead she found herself oddly comforted. Abe motioned her over as he walked through the entrance, guiding her into a small kitchen that held an old table where a small girl sat, playing with the food on her plate with a bored expression on her face. She looked up at the sound of them and her eyes widened, a shocked smile spreading across her face.  
"Mama! Abe has brought a white woman in the house!" She called loudly, glancing over her shoulder.

Freya scowled, looking down at her hands to observe the paleness of them. "Does everyone in this town refer to others by the color of their skin?"

The little girl giggled loudly, staring between her and Abe. "I like how you talk. What's that accent, miss? Sounds real proper like."

"I'm English, darling. It's nice to meet you," she told the girl, looking up at the woman who came into the room, towels piled in her hands.

"What in the world are you hollerin' about," the woman cut off when she noticed Freya, eyeing her wildly before looking at Abe accusingly. "What is this, Abraham? I was told nothin' of company let alone company from someone of this sort," she demanded.

"She's from England, mama. Isn't that somethin'? She's real pretty. Abe, is she your girlfriend?" Faith said excitedly, grinning at Freya.

Abe gave his sister a look before smiling at his mother. "She's in my class. She needed some help and some food, so I brought her here. Knew you'd welcome her as she doesn't have anyone to go home to. She's stayin' by herself. Need some help?" He asked her smoothly, going to take the towels from her hands before kissing her head as he towered over her.

He was quite tall, Freya observed now. Tall and well built, much stronger than the men she was used to. She did remember him telling her he worked outside.

"Oh, I see. I'm a restaurant now. Mmm," the woman said irritably, eyeing Freya again.

Freya smiled brilliantly and walked forward to kiss the woman's cheeks in greeting. "It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Johnson. I'm Freya Krat. Your son has been kind enough to help me in the past week, as I wouldn't know what I was doing without him in complete honesty."

She heard Faith giggle again and the woman stepped back, giving her the strangest look. "Abraham. Get the girl sat down please," she said slowly, still staring at Freya.

"Your hair is so pretty," Faith told her as Abe pulled a chair out for her before sitting down himself at the small table. "There's a girl in my summer school with hair like that. Her name is Annabelle. She don't like me much. Your hair is way prettier though. Longer too."

"She doesn't like you much," her mother corrected, grabbing dishes from the cupboard. "Don't talk like you're uneducated when I scrape together money that we don't have for you to attend as much school as I can manage."

"You talk like that, mama," Faith argued. "And this ain't school."

"Was I askin' you or anybody for backtalk? No? Then don't you give me any! And do as I say, not as I do," her mother snapped, setting plates of food down in front of both Abe and Freya.

Freya looked down at the food curiously, not seeing anything even remotely close to the whole foods she strictly put into her body. She glanced at Abe before thanking his mother politely, picking up her silverware slowly. She'd have to eat it. The woman already seemed angry at her presence as it was.

"Anyway, it _doesn't_ hurt my feelings any. She just doesn't like me because her daddy is in the K-"

"Eat your supper, Faith. I don't want that talk at the table," the girl's mother cut her off, her voice low.

"I like your hair better, Faith," Freya told her, tilting her head. "A lot of girls have the same hair as I do. It's nothing special."

Faith blinked then smiled shyly. "That's awful sweet of you to say, Miss Freya."

Freya nodded in response, gathering food on her fork with her knife to force herself to take a bite, trying not to process the taste or the look of the food as she tried to imagine herself eating something less fattening.

Faith wriggled in her seat, sitting back straight against her chair, angling her shoulders back. "How d'you eat like that without making a mess of everything?" She asked, narrowing her eyes in concentration as she tried to bring her fork to her mouth without dropping her food in her lap.

Abe grinned beside Freya, watching his sister in amusement. "Don't mock my guest, Faith. You'll run her off if you keep makin' her feel like she sticks out."

"She _does_ stick out. I've no idea why she's here, really. Didn't you say the Smith boy was in that class of yours? I'm sure she'd be much better suited at _his_ dinner table."

" _She_ is sat right next to you, mama. I'm sure she doesn't like being talked about like she's not here," Abe answered calmly, looking up at his mother before looking at Freya.

"I can assure you. I have no desire to go anywhere with that boy who believes he can look at me as if he has a chance with me," Freya sniffed, thinking of the less than impressive arrogant boy again.

"So he has made eyes at you? Is what you're letting on? Mhm. I don't like this, Abraham. They don't like when we try to take what's theirs. Don't be bringin' trouble to this house over some girl."

"I beg your pardon?" Freya asked, leaning back slightly in offense. "What is _theirs_? I am certainly not that boy's property." Freya felt her face come together in disgust at the thought of anyone believing she belonged to that ill mannered muggle boy.

"Yeah, because his daddy is in the KKK too. Most've the rich folks are," Faith said in a matter-of-fact way.

"The what?" Freya asked, fighting the urge to sigh. She was tired of being so confused.

"Didn't I just tell you that I didn't want that talk at the table? Keep your rumors to yourself, Faith Evangeline. I won't tell you again," Abe's mother warned, ignoring Faith's mutters about how her words were not rumours. "Why're you here, Freya?"

"Because I am not doing well in the class Abe and I share, and-"

"No. Why are you really here?" She asked slowly, focusing on her food.

"Mama," Abe sighed. "Why do you have to do this?"

His mother ignored him, going on. "What? Is your father running for mayor or some nonsense? You people get a gold star whenever you pull stunts like this."

"I'm sorry," Freya said slowly, her head spinning slightly from the questions this muggle woman was putting her through. "I don't have any idea of what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb, girl. I don't give a damn where you're from. No white woman covered in diamonds and expensive clothes with her nose permanently stuck up in the air comes 'round here and befriends a poor black man for no good reason. Why. Are. You. Here."

This fucking skin color nonsense again. Perhaps she was wrong to even bother with these muggles. What, they thought it would make her look _good_ eating at a low class family's table? In what social pyramid did that work?

"I'm not sure how the 'rich' work in your world, Mrs. Johnson, but from where I come from dining with a family seen as much lower than my own would not gain me any points. In fact, it would cause quite the stir in my community and my family would be furious with me. Now, I am being completely honest when I tell you that I am only here for help with my class. Your son has been kind to me, and I do not feel comfortable with the other students in the class as I do him. Please do not assume I have ulterior motives when I do not," she told her, keeping her tone as polite as possible.

Why was she explaining herself to this _muggle_? As if she deserved her respect, after she gave her none.

The woman sat back, regarding her coolly before saying nothing and returning to her food. Freya felt Abe's eyes on her and she relaxed slightly, not wanting to upset him by getting into it with his mother. He had been more than kind to her, and she didn't want to lose her muggle.

"Don't mind mama. She's just mad about Mrs. Anderson's husband getting off with no prison time just because she put on this show of how their family has no problem with us. I hate that lady, she's plain fake and mean," Faith announced, stabbing at her food. "I don't think you're fake, Miss Freya, and I'ma great judge of character."

"We don't _hate_ anybody, Faith Evangeline. I don't know how many times I have to tell you. We especially don't hate a woman who has to lie down next to a killer every night and try to wash the blood from his hands. No. We pity her and we pray for her. That's all."

* * *

Astoria looked to the redheaded witch in front of her, sitting calmly as she was assessed, assessing the woman in return. She recognized her faintly, though she wasn't quite sure from where.

"Mrs. Malfoy. I'm pleased to speak with you. May I call you Astoria? My name is Novalie," the woman said, smiling at her from her seat.

"Astoria is more than fine, Novalie," Astoria replied, smiling back with the same amount of false warmth.

"I'm just going to jump straight into the questions, if you don't mind."

Astoria motioned her hand for her to continue, already irritated with the woman. She couldn't stand being patronized by other women, and somehow this woman was already grating her nerves even more so than the Aurors did. It was a different type of patronizing.

"How would you say your husband treats you?"

"Well. I'm very happy with Draco. I couldn't have asked for a more suitable husband," Astoria said smoothly.

"Lovely. I'm happy to hear it. What makes him suitable?"

"We are both quiet and don't like anything out of the ordinary. We are both simple people, who want similar things in life."

"Simple," Novalie repeated, nodding in approval as she wrote. "Good! And what do you think of Draco's past?"

"I don't have much opinion of it. I know it haunts him, and I know he prefers not to think of it. I was never involved with the Death Eaters, so I couldn't give much opinion on them other than the fact I disapprove."

"And why would you say you disapprove?" She asked, her eyes thoughtful.

"Because it's a waste of time and creates unnecessary conflict as well as violence. We lose people of our own, and there is no reason to create tension between our world and theirs. It's best if we left each other alone and kept to our own business," Astoria told her, the irritation of not being able to remember exactly where she knew the woman from prodding at her.

"Do you believe the ideas that the Death Eaters had were a waste of time truly?"

"Yes. That's what I said."

"But wouldn't it be easier if all of the muggle-borns and so on were gone and marriages were regulated for blood control?"

"It would be impossible. There are too many of them."

"Ah," she said, smiling. "But what if it _were_ possible?"

"I don't really see it necessary to murder them. I'd rather just live separately." Astoria kept her voice neutral and polite. These questions were just as ordinary as all of the ones the Aurors had already asked.

Novalie nodded, jotting down some notes before pausing and sitting back to look at her for a few moments before tilting her head to the side. "Are you sure you have no desire to simply be rid of those you see so below you? I mean, we see many pure-bloods leaving your side to have relationships with those who are not of your own. Should they be controlled, that problem would end, no? I'm sure you personally can see the appeal in that," she told her, her voice soft and suggestive near the end. "Can't you?"

Astoria stilled, feeling a sharp coldness wash over her at the woman's implications. She took a few moments to respond, controlling her reaction, the reaction this woman was certainly trying to get out of her. Astoria's polite smile returned to her face, slightly more stiff than it had been when their interview began.

"Novalie Eld," she said, the name clear in her memory now. "Yes, that's how I recognize you. I've seen you before in Germany I believe, though I can't place exactly for what reason.. I recognize the family name though, of course. I'm sure my father would recognize it much better than me. Odd.. What are you doing here? Working with the Aurors in attempt to imprison your own." Astoria frowned, feigning innocent concern and confusion.

The woman visibly tensed and Astoria ignored the smug expression that fought to take over her face. She had been wondering why no one had addressed the woman by her last name and why she had not stated it herself. Foolish woman, perhaps most pure-bloods wouldn't recognize her or her name in this area of the world, but families such as Astoria's kept better track than most.

"I do believe I'm interviewing you, Astoria. You're right, I'm from the Eld family," she replied, her voice still light and calm though there was a bit of an edge to it now.

"Surely your family does not approve of this.. Have you left them?" Astoria asked curiously.

"It says here that there were bruises on your neck the first day Miss Granger came to see you," Novalie sighed, flipping through her file. "And that you have a nervous habit of holding your breath.. That you were not present for many meetings.. Hmm. These are not good signs, Astoria. I may have to recommend your removal from this home for the time being, perhaps your husband as well."

"Do you want to play this game with me, Eld? I'm prepared to play, I can assure you, and I do not fancy threats," Astoria responded lightly, watching the woman intensely.

Novalie stopped, meeting her gaze for many moments before she relaxed in her seat, her kind smile returning. "No threats, Astoria. Now, let's move onto lighter subjects, shall we? Are you and your husband planning on a specific time to have your children, or are you just allowing it to happen whenever it decides to?"

Yes, Astoria thought as much.

* * *

"No. That's possibly the worst idea you've ever come up with," Ophelia Greengrass expressed to her best friend who had remained her friend through the years though never failed to give up her attempts to influence her horribly.

Her husband was currently not home, which was good considering the two of them were not the best of friends, off doing his private accounting work where he usually worked with overly rich, foreign wizards and witches. It always sounded quite boring to Ophelia, but Edric wasn't the type that needed an exciting job.

"It's really not a bad idea, Fee. Come on, this is perfect! It's not as if she'll know who you are, and plenty of half-bloods attend Pucey parties. It would be too easy to pass you as a half-blood!"

"Do you know what Edric would say to this brilliant plan of yours?" Ophelia demanded, thinking of his reaction herself.

"Screw your boyfriend, Fee-"

"My husband," she corrected, rolling her eyes at her friend's childishness. "Isn't this _about_ him? Seeing as it's _his_ sister."

"Yes, exactly. It's about him. Look, I get the pure-bloods and their little rules better than you do, but ones like the Puceys are just a bit looser on their rules. You could get away with sneaking in. What if you meet her and she likes you? What if you could actually get her to communicate with Edric again in secret? You say he's still upset about it, so why not try to _do_ something about it?"

"It's not my place, Violet. That's completely crossing the line, and I don't want to disrespect him like that or hurt him. This isn't a game to him. He hurts for his family. I can't just sneak around and disguise myself to try and get a look at his sister."

"I know it's not a game. You won't be exposed, and you don't have to tell him," she insisted, her face serious.

"I'm not going to sneak around! As if that would even be possible!"

"Oh, please. You said he hadn't set your marriage bonds in _that_ strongly. You won't be sneaking around, you-"

"It's not about the bonds. It's about him. He'd know. He knows me, and I'm not a good liar."

"You won't be lying! Since when do you let him control you so much? I thought you wanted to keep some of your independence," her friend accused, scowling at her.

"It's not control. It's respect. I can't understand why you don't see that. It would hurt him."

The same way it would hurt Daphne should she ever find out her husband came to see Edric.

"It wouldn't hurt him if it worked. I think it could if we tried hard enough. I've seen her and she looks vulnerable, and from what I've heard she's fucked up the rules before. Once you break one rule, it's much easier to break them all. Look at Edric. He spiraled all the way down after he got a taste of rebellion, didn't he?"

"I wish you wouldn't describe him as 'spiraling down' because of our relationship. I feel horrible enough as it is," Ophelia sighed, walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"Exactly! You still feel horrible! It's been what? Nine years? You shouldn't still feel horrible about your own marriage!"

"I don't feel horrible about my marriage. I just feel horrible about what I caused, no matter how much he denies it being my fault."

"But you can undo some of what you supposedly caused if you'd just try to take my advice. At least try. At least get a look at her."

"Get a look at her? She's not my sister. That would be almost be.. Stealing from him. He deserves to look at her, not me."

"But he can't! You can! How much do I have to argue this before you agree?" Violet pressed, grabbing her arm.

"I'm not going to agree, Violet! I said no!"

"No to what?" Her husband's voice entered the kitchen, and her heart jumped into her throat in fear he had heard what they were discussing.

"I'm trying to get her to come to a party with me," Violet answered, rolling her eyes. "As usual, she's being as boring as a doorknob."

Well, it wasn't exactly a lie.

Ophelia turned to greet her husband, entering his arms as she tilted her head up for him to kiss her hello as Violet hummed impatiently behind her.

"I'll be off then. Don't need to be here for this. I'll be back tomorrow, Fee," Violet said firmly, exiting the kitchen.

Hopefully she wasn't really back to bother her the next day, she didn't want to deal with a repeat of their argument.

"How was work?" Ophelia asked, wrapping her arms around Edric's neck loosely as she looked up at his eyes, admiring how stunningly attractive he was. She never seemed to grow used to it.

"It was work just as it always is," he replied, running his thumb along the length of her jaw.  
"Maybe you should quit. You'll be my househusband. It will be adorable."

"Hmm. I'll have to decline," he answered, an amused look crossing his features and he kissed her temple. "Though I'm quite sure I'd make a better housewife than you."

"Well, someone will have to stay home with our children!"

"Yes. You," he said firmly before looking down at her stomach between them. "You know that. Now don't be ridiculous."

"Yes, yes. Don't panic. I won't force you to stay home and take care of crying babies all day by yourself. My mum can help you!"

Edric grimaced before he rolled his eyes at her. "Your mother would be on my side."

"She would not! Why would you think that?"

"She's always on my side," he chuckled, grabbing a piece of her hair between his fingers before smirking. "Women are _always_ on my side, love."


	39. Chapter 39

"Edric," little Astoria huffed, moving behind her brother's legs to push the length of her body against them, going limp. "When will it be time to go home? I _hate_ this. Mother won't even let me play with cousin Garren!"

"Because you and Garren get into trouble every time you two are together," Edric told her, allowing her to lean on the back of his legs. "And of course you hate this. You hate any occasion where you are required to behave for five minutes."

"Why can't I play _and_ behave!" Astoria pouted, slumping down to sit in the grass at his feet, plucking at her white dress pitifully.

"Stand up, Tori. Why must you always be so difficult? What if Roderick sees you acting like a brat?" He asked her, a warning tone in his voice as he glanced around at the adults ahead of him, though none of them seemed to be paying any attention to the boy and his sister.

"I _hate_ uncle Roderick. He makes mother act off. I hate being in Germany," she continued to complain, not standing up like her brother had ordered.

"You hate a lot of things," he responded, turning to pluck her up from the ground. Astoria's body sagged as she refused to support herself on her feet. "Astoria Conradina. You are not a toddler. Stand. Up," he growled irritably at her, earning himself a glare from her before his sister stood, yanking herself away from him.

"Why am I not allowed to sit," she demanded. "I've been standing for so long. I'm a child! I get tired easy!"

"And I get tired of your whining. Easy." Edric rolled his eyes and walked over to the pathway that led to the bench near the small pond on the property, Astoria trailing behind him as a triumphant expression spread over her features. "Here, but we can't stay here for very long."

Astoria climbed onto the bench, a smirk on her small face before she pointed to the spot next to her, watching Edric sit beside her exactly where her ordering finger was pointing him to. "Why does mother act so odd around our uncle?"

"Because she's scared of him," Edric told her evenly, looking out at the pond.

"Why? He's her brother."

"He's not a good one."

Astoria smiled up at Edric sweetly and leaned against his arm, pressing her cheek against the arm she was leaning against. "I'm so lucky that I have the _best_ brother."

Edric looked down at her as he smiled back and kissed the top of his sister's head. "Cute, but I imagine you'll be asking me for something after such a compliment."

She scowled up at him, pushing her lips out. "Why can't I just be nice?"

"I don't know. Why can't you?"

"I am!" Astoria exclaimed, poking his side. "Be nice back to me or I won't be anymore."

"Uh oh. I better be nice then," Edric said seriously, widening his eyes.

"Better be," Astoria agreed, nodding in agreement. "What if when I get married my husband will be mean to me like how uncle is mean to his wife?"

"He won't be," Edric murmured, his eyes darkening at her words and he clasped his hands together.

"How do you know?"

"Because I won't let him," he said, moving his arm around her shoulders to lean down and kiss the side of her face. "And because no one would want to hurt you. You have that face as your advantage."

"Do you promise?" Astoria asked, her expression now solemn and sad.

"Yes. I promise. Now cheer up," he told her against the skin of her face, his voice kind. "I love you, and I'll always be around to protect you."

Astoria wrapped her arms around his waist, embracing him tightly. "I love you more," she replied, her voice brighter.

Draco sighed and leaned his head against one hand, rubbing his temple, waiting as the memory switched.

Astoria, still a small child, jumped awake in bed at the sound of the clap of loud thunder. She gathered her blankets around her, looking around the room frowning before crawling out of the bed, wincing at the flash of lightning that showed through the window. She crept down the hall of her home, peeking into the girl's room next to hers to find an empty bed there. She scowled and turned back, quietly moving in the other direction to open the door Edric's bedroom, Daphne already in there with him sleeping soundly.

Astoria climbed onto the large bed between her older brother and sister, wedging herself between them and causing Daphne to readjust herself to curl around her sister's back, nuzzling her face into Astoria's shoulder tiredly. Edric half opened his eyes and shook his head, muttering under his breath about how high maintenance they were before turning on his side to go back to sleep, ending up near the edge of the bed with his sisters more in the center, taking up most of it. Astoria reached behind her to grab Daphne's hand, pulling it around her to hold onto it tiredly, closing her eyes to sleep as well as the room lit up with the storm, the sisters now unbothered.

Draco stood when the memory ended, feeling an amount of understanding for his wife's sadness as well as his own mother's. Being an only child, he never understood the relationships that siblings shared, but some of the memories he had witnessed of his wife and her own he was beginning to feel more empathy for what they had lost. He had certainly never thought of Daphne and Astoria having an affectionate relationship until recently. At Hogwarts, Daphne had only ever complained about her sister, and Astoria had often fought with her when she was younger based on the scenes he had seen previously. Though judging from Daphne's fierce reaction to their separation, and the small moment in the memory, Draco could see they were more than just bickering sisters.

Draco covered the Pensieve, turning to make his way up to his bedroom slowly, thinking of his wife's youth. Well, they were still in their youth, weren't they? But the child version of her, so full of promise and life, promise to be more than what he had originally took her as that was now only ghosted in her eyes. He wasn't sure how that came to be, if it had been the loss of her brother or if her parents had finally told her enough was enough and that it was time to act properly. Perhaps her personality had faded with age. He realized his growing resentment for her brother that no longer was, and it was not for the fact he was a traitor in his community's eyes, but the fact he had abandoned his sisters for a girl that came much after his siblings, for a girl that was not the same little girl Edric had promised to always be around for, and for a girl that was not the same girl who he had promised to protect from her husband. He was a traitor, yes, but even more so to his family that had loved him so dearly. All for a girl at school.

Was Draco what Astoria had pictured as a child when she had feared her future husband mistreating her? Was Draco the man Edric had promised to protect Astoria from?

No, he wasn't horrible to her. From the small glimpses he had seen of her uncle, and from the other men he had witnessed in their circle he was definitely no where near what he could be. She certainly hadn't been the perfect wife so far, and there was no reason why he should be feeling the small sliver of guilt he was experiencing. It was just her, her damn face. The face she was well aware of, he knew that now, and he imagined she still knew how to use it to manipulate people into feeling soft towards her, into making _him_ feel soft towards her and her sweet, innocent face. So eager to please.

It was most certainly working, wasn't it?

Draco opened the door to his room, jumping when he nearly knocked into his wife attempting to exit the room at the same moment. His eyes fluttered closed irritably as he sucked in a breath through his nose, recovering from the start she had given him.

"Where are you going," he said flatly, the edge in his voice unwarranted for something she had done unintentionally.

"Did I frighten you?"

"No."

".. Are you sure?"

Draco opened his eyes to find her looking up at him with bright eyes, amusement playing at her lips. "I'm sure," he said dully, closing the door behind him. "What did you need?"

"I was going to look for you," she said, grasping her hands together.

"Yes. What did you need," he repeated.

"Oh.. I don't know," she said, the corners of her lips pulling down.

"You don't know? How could you not know?"

"I was bored," she said slowly. "And I was feeling a bit nervous."

"Nervous about what?"

"Just.. Are you sure we shouldn't add more wards? I feel almost naked being here," she murmured, looking around the room.

"Why would I allow you to be unprotected?" He asked irritably, moving past her into the room. "The wards are more than adequate."

"I'm not saying you would. I'm just scared. You were a Death Eater.. But I wasn't, and that's who they're targeting," she said quietly, turning to watch him.

"They're targeting whole families. If anything they'll go for your parents. Or your sister and Adrian's family now that she's a Pucey."

She stared at him, her eyes filling with more worry. "That's not comforting at all, Draco."

"It's the truth. You're my responsibility. They're not. I'm doing my job taking care of _you_ , and no one else. What more do you want?"

"I don't want my family hurt," she nearly whispered, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"Adrian, as much as an idiot as he may seem, knows how to protect himself. As does his family, and I think we both know your mother and father are capable with their magic. Just relax, Astoria. Worrying does nothing productive."

"Telling me that worrying does nothing productive isn't productive either."

"Don't be difficult."

"I'm not being difficult! I'm scared. Aren't I allowed to be scared? I don't want to be around the Death Eaters. I don't want to be controlled by them."

"And you think I do?"

"No, but you're prepared."

"I'm not prepared," he said coldly, shaking his head bitterly. "I was never prepared. Your boyfriend was prepared. Perhaps you really would be better off with him."

"Draco," she said softly, causing him to nearly shiver at how delicate his name felt settling over his ears.

He said nothing as he began to remove his clothes impatiently. Astoria stood up, walking up to him cautiously before stopping a few feet from him, seeming to wait.

"What is it," he snapped, looking down her small frame which was standing tall and still as it usually did.

Astoria shook her head, saying nothing. She only stood there, watching him as she waited. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply and slowly, feeling the nearness of her presence grating his nerves. She was too close to not be touching him.

"Come here," he ordered, unable to stand her practically hovering nearby.

She complied, walking forward to finish unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders before looking up at him. He grabbed her wrists, tugging her forward to pull her flush against his chest.

"Stop worrying about this. We just have to wait it out."

"Do you regret it?" She asked him, watching his eyes.

Draco's eyebrows furrowed slightly at her question. "Regret what?"

"Not killing Dumbledore."

Draco felt his face falter and he nearly stepped back from her. "Why ask me that?" He asked, his voice lined with a roughness to it.

"I remember getting angry at you when I was watching you. I just wanted you to kill him. I kept thinking: 'How hard is it to kill an old man? Doesn't he know he will be killed if he doesn't?' There were so many times I almost helped you do it.. Just to get it done. But you never ended up killing him at all. I was afraid then. I didn't want you or your family to die."

He said nothing, squeezing hit tongue between his teeth hard as he gathered and sorted his thoughts, unsure of how to react to her words. He wanted to move away from her, push her away, but he didn't. He only stood there, her body against his own. He could feel the evidence of her life moving against his skin beneath the fabric of her clothes.

It was suffocating.

"I don't know," he said finally, his voice nearly nonexistent.

Yes. The answer was yes. Why would he tell her he didn't know? His family had paid dearly for his inability to kill the worthless idiot.

He grit his teeth before speaking again, his voice harder this time, honest. "But if I had a chance to do it again at the age I am now I would, and I could get it done this time around."

Astoria nodded, slipping her hands over his skin lightly to rest them against his chest, his heart beneath her fingertips.

"Draco?"

"What now."

"I'm sorry that I wanted you to live for the wrong reasons."

* * *

 

Daphne jumped awake at the sound of the bedroom door slamming and she turned over tiredly in alarm to squint into the darkness, trying to make out Adrian's form as he went to the dresser to rummage through the top drawer. She sighed, laying her head back down on the pillow to rub her eyes. She had gone through that drawer before, curious of its contents when he had frequented it. In it were a lot of the substances she found in the corners of their parties, and she didn't have a desire to ask much about it.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her voice thick with sleep. She was sure it was the early hours of the morning. It wouldn't surprise her as he always came home late, though usually he didn't wake her up so rudely.

"Nothing is wrong. Sleep," he snapped, eliciting a wince from her at how out of character he was acting.

He never talked to her like that.

Daphne was still, unsure of what to do and suddenly feeling uncomfortable to move, uncomfortable that she was intruding on _his_ space and _his_ bed. She swallowed, forcing herself to sit up to confront him, oddly nervous. The room felt different, he felt different. Her eyes adjusted properly and he was still messing around in his dresser when they did, his back to her.

"Adrian? What's wrong? She asked again, forcing her voice to be strong when she spoke up to him.

He stopped, standing still and frigid in place, his head coming up to stare forward and she could faintly see his jaw tense in the dark room. Her breath hitched in anxiousness and she twisted her hands slowly in her blankets, completely unprepared to handle him this way.

"What's wrong is that I'm here," he said, his voice low and nearly unrecognizable in its coldness. "I'm here and those fucking soul eating idiots are attempting to get at me, but I'm stuck here because of you and your fucking sister. I should have never come back. Now I'm trapped, and I'm not only trapped to spend the rest of my life with you, but trapped to end up as bait to this group of psychopaths."

"I didn't ask for this either," she ground out quickly, defensive in her pain at what he had said to her. "I didn't want to marry you. I couldn't help it. _You_ mentioned me to my sister! I'm stuck here too!" Daphne wrapped her arms around herself tightly, biting her lip as she was stung by his hurtful words. "Wait.. What do you mean? Did the Death Eaters do something?" She choked out, tears spilling from her eyes from both her wounded feelings and now fear.

He didn't respond for a while, and she couldn't see him through her tears aside from his blurred and moving form. She leaned away impulsively as she saw the shape of him move toward the bed, but she now recognized the shift in the room as the animosity faded.

"Daphne," she heard him sigh and she wiped her eyes roughly, looking away from him in both embarrassment and a new shyness for a man she apparently didn't know well at all.

"Daphne," he said again, his voice back to his more usual tone and she felt the bed dip as he sat next to her. "I'm sorry, love. I'm not angry with you."

"It's fine, Adrian," she managed, a small and wavering amount of edge to her voice as she refused to look at him. "I knew you didn't want to be married to me. It's a business arrangement the same as any other. I'm sorry it worked out so negatively for you."

"It didn't. I'm just stressed, and now I'm scared because I have something to lose," he said quietly and she felt him move closer to her, gently pulling her arm so she'd turn to him. She reluctantly turned her face to his to find that he was studying it regretfully. He brushed her tears away with his fingertips lightly, sighing again.

"What happened?" Her voice was small this time, and she hated herself for feeling so vulnerable in front of him after he had made her feel so horrible.

"There was just evidence of attempts to get through our wards, but it could have been anyone. I shouldn't make assumptions. I'm just paranoid. It will be fine."

Daphne shrunk back from him, terror filling her. "What? What do you mean? Evidence how? Shouldn't we hide?" New tears sprang in her eyes in her fear for her new family along with her guilt after Adrian had blamed her for everything though she knew it was in no way her fault. He just had that way about him.

Adrian shook his head, tucking her hair behind her ear as he pulled some strands from her face that were stuck to the trails her tears left behind. "Really. It's okay," he told her, his tone soothing. "I won't let anyone hurt you. You're my wife, my family."

"But-"

"Just let it be for now. Alright, dove? You should sleep. It's nearly four."

Daphne stared at him, struggling to listen to him. How could she just let this be? Her heart was practically bruising the inside of her chest with how much it was racing. "You woke me up," she bit viciously in her struggles, yanking away from him to gather herself under the blankets and turn away from him.

"That I did," he said, his voice slightly sheepish but still not quite his normal, easygoing tone.

She said nothing to that and listened to him get up from the bed, most likely to take off his clothes, before he got back into it to lay down beside her. Her heart was still racing in fear and she slid closer to the center of the bed, pressing up against the pillow between them. She chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment before turning over to pull it out of the way, grabbing onto his arm to move under it before she practically buried herself into his side. He shifted to accommodate for her, sliding his arm around her to gather her closer to his bare chest.

"Glad to see you've come around," he commented, a smugness in his tone.

Dick. She was scared, what triumph could he possibly claim from that?

"You really can relax. Everything is fine. I promise," he told her when he spoke again, his tone more serious.

She said nothing and instead pressed her nose into his skin, inhaling the intoxicating, sensual scent of him. The smell of his cologne mixed together with his other natural scents that she was growing very familiar with overwhelmed her senses. It was the same scent that had begun to cling to her own clothes and added to her own scent, and she didn't mind at all. Everything about it was alluring and masculine.

"You know, we are really pressing our limits with how long we are waiting to consummate our marriage. The magic used in the ceremony _expects_ -"

"Now is not the time to be joking about sex, Adrian," she hissed against his skin, digging her nails into his stomach where her hand rested.

"Are you sure? I mean, with that foreplay a man gets confused."

"Goodnight, Adrian."


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know I haven't posted the updates on here in a while, and that's because I kind of wanted to update you guys on the details of this story. When I started this story I had all of the side characters and their backstories planned, but I underestimated the amount of time and writing it would take to explain them all effectively. I don't want you guys to feel cheated or mislead with so many extra POVs, but I also don't want to sacrifice character development. I feel like I update frequently enough to where if you aren't interested in a certain character you can skip ahead to the characters you do care about (of course I do want you to read all of them, but it's okay if you do that. I'll forgive you). The main couple of this story is still Draco/Astoria, but I am going to change the summary of this story to fit a bit better to what I'm providing you with. I hope you all don't want to kill me, and I'm sorry I went so long without updating you all on here. I also post on fanfiction.net, and I have long author's notes on every chapter and more people to interact with so I feel like the direction of the story was communicated better. Going along with that as well, a lot of times I will answer questions in the author's notes on fanfiction.net, so if you do have questions or are curious about that you can go look at the chapters there (or just ask your questions in the comments here). Anyway, sorry for the long note, and I will update the story on this site now! Thank you all so much for reading!

How had he let that happen.

What had _possessed_ him to take it to that level? To take it to any level whatsoever? To soil himself with a mudblood, and not even a remarkable one at that. An insecure, classless, silly little girl who had foolishly began to fancy him knowing full well she was completely and utterly beneath him in every possible sense according to the values he was brought up on.

And she had that idiot friend who would most certainly take pleasure in attempting to spread this nasty information about him to anyone in the school that would listen. Well, not that anyone important would believe such nonsense, so he supposed it didn't particularly matter. Why in Merlin's name would he sleep with such a girl? It just wasn't a believable tale.

But he had, and he had taken the initiative himself.

Just as he had taken the initiative throughout the entirety of their odd little relationship. The reasons of why were unclear to him, but what was clear is that it needed to end immediately. An annoying twinge of guilt passed through him and he grit his teeth in response. She chose to give herself to him there, out in the open. She was going to allow him to take her against the _tree_ no less so obviously she had little care for the prize she had awarded him, unless she was a complete idiot and thought they could actually have a relationship, and Edric knew the girl wasn't stupid.

Edric fought to keep his thoughts sensible and disgust ridden as he made his way to his dorm room, closing the door tensely before staring at the bed ahead of him. He closed his eyes, images of her rich brown eyes closing before him as he touched her, claimed her passing through his head, harassing him. He didn't share, he had told her, and it were true. She was his, his mistake. He would have been wise to allow her sully herself with that brainless idiot and damage the warm and innocent view he was holding for her so he could rid himself of this little infatuation he had with her. She had been so responsive, so eager to give in to him. She had put up no resistance to her own desires or hesitation despite the fact he had spoken to her the way he had. He shouldn't be surprised, he had recognized early on how she had been taken with him for whatever reason that she had in common with all of the other witches who decided to fancy him. She had wanted him to want her, and want her he did.

Yes, want her he did.

She was beautiful, undeniably so. Her features were natural and not obviously striking in the traditional sense, but still striking to him nonetheless. Brown hair, brown eyes. Not usually what one would describe as anyone worth giving too much of a look at, but somehow she was worth a second glance anyway. Ophelia was not this magnificent witch who would go down in textbooks as being remarkable, but still she was intelligent and interesting in a way that grabbed his attention.

Well, if she were _really_ intelligent she wouldn't have allowed herself to be degraded as her mother had, no?

Her insecurities had won over her own sense, just as his desires had won over his. Now we was stuck, stuck with the knowledge he had formed a soft spot for this mudblood and that she had so sweetly given herself to him along with her pride, and he knew very well that he didn't have a desire to hurt her or destroy her self worth that she had foolishly put in his hands. Not that he had much of a choice. He had absolutely no future with this girl and she had to know that. It was not uncommon for pure-bloods to sleep with half-bloods, and occasionally mudbloods as their degrading way of "putting them to good use". That wasn't why he did it though, he knew, and that knowledge is what unnerved him.

Edric groaned inwardly and he grabbed his things he used to bathe himself, heading to the shower in hopes to scrub the girl's infuriatingly intoxicating scent off of him. There was absolutely no valid reason for him to be having this problem, taking an interest in a girl like her. Not only an interest, but a feeling of _possession_ over her, a need to protect her when his housemates gave her their looks of resentment and disgust. What right did they have to look at his mudblood that way? He was surrounded by beautiful women at home, beautiful and confident women who could control themselves and keep themselves pure. There was nothing wrong with the women in his circle, they were all well educated and were raised with magic, unlike this girl who only knew magic from what she learned at school. His sisters were much younger than her, but he was quite sure they knew nearly the same amount if not more about magic than she did, as well as magic she had never even heard of or could dream of at that. Old magic, dark magic that had been in the pure-blood families for so long that witches and wizards like Ophelia would not be able to say anything about because it was not what they grew up with. She was ordinary compared to the women he grew up around, and ordinary compared to the woman he would marry. The interest he had taken in her lacked any sort of solid argument as to why.

Everyone wanted what they couldn't have, didn't they?

Had his mother found out about this he was sure she would comment something along the lines of "Well, we know what they say about the grass and what it looks like on the other side, now don't we?" right before mercilessly degrading him and the girl for being so senseless. He didn't want to imagine his father's reaction. His father's anger was never explosive, but simmering and boiling under a calm surface, and that was all the more terrifying.

Edric stared up at the ceiling as the scalding water burned his skin, dragging his tongue against his teeth as he considered his options on how to treat the situation. He wasn't sure how _she_ would treat the situation, but he was sure she would be hurt either way. It was nearly the holidays, so at least he would be able to go home for a while to clear his head of what had happened.

He was silent with her in their next class, acting as if nothing had happened. Nothing should have happened, and he wouldn't let anything happen again. It was for her own best interests, and she should consider him merciful for not continuing to play with her as that's all she could ever be to him; his plaything. She kept her head down during the class, ducking her face away every time he glanced in her direction, seemingly ashamed and shy. She ought to be a bit more unreadable than that. She was horrid at masking her feelings and had been since the day he had been assigned her partner the previous year.

But he _liked_ that about her, didn't he?

So real, so readable. There was no hidden agenda with her or a false face she put on for him. She did _try_ to appear more confident than she was, but that was the extent of it. She was lucky he had no ill intent towards her, or he could easily get into her head and make her completely his mentally only to fully break her when he was finished being entertained by her. Tempting, as he was very taken with how good she felt writhing beneath him, his name on her lips so full of desire and submission. However, he was not cruel, and he would not take pleasure in killing her spirit by making her truly infatuated with him should he continue to be intimate with her. Though the silent pull of her just being near him was enough to question if it would be worth it, worth the guilt of her pain and the scars he would leave behind. He was taught to believe her beneath him, but he still believed her a person, which was why it was digging at his nerves the way she shied away from him in shame as if he was disgusted by her. How stupid was she? Had he not proved to her how he _wanted_ her by taking her the way he did? He was not disgusted by her, but frustrated at himself for _not_ being disgusted by her as he should be. Her head should be held high right now, as she had affectively seduced Edric Greengrass as a plain, unremarkable mudblood just by being her simple self. He almost smirked at the stubborn way she tried to hold her chin up, acting as if she was so sure of herself but failing entirely. She had nothing on the witches who actually knew how to feign sureness and confidence, witches he had grown up to know. She should have nothing on them period, and perhaps that was why he felt so drawn to her.

He continued to act as if nothing had happened between them as the days went by, feeling her grow more and more aggravated with him as he still spoke to her the same he had the duration of their partnership, still polite and charming.

"I'm getting fed up with this, Greengrass," she said suddenly, sitting back after putting her work down.

Edric quirked an eyebrow at the use of his last name as opposed to his first, not looking up from his own work as he studied her from his peripheral vision. "Oh? Is the work becoming too difficult for you? What would you like help with?"

"I'm getting fed up with you pretending as if you didn't shag me out on the grass just only recently. You are purposely acting like nothing at all happened."

"Did I do that? Perhaps you were with your boyfriend, and only made it bearable by imagining you were with a real man."

"Interesting how you lose your bullshit, well mannered facade whenever me being in a relationship with someone is mentioned. I won't allow being treated like this just because you have this mudblood fetish, and-"

"Mudblood fetish?" He asked, cutting her off to look up and meet her eyes, amused at her adorably flustered features. "Quite the accusation. Tell me, did you feel as 'bad and wild' as you imagined you'd feel? 'Seducing an elite pure-blood male'?"

Ophelia's face fell in confusion before it reddened to scarlet as she understood his reference to her friend's words from the day they had first been assigned to the other. "I never said those things, that was-"

"I'm sure you know what is said about stones and glass houses," he tsked, standing as he gathered his things. "Enjoy your holidays, love."

* * *

Freya swayed when the portkey brought her back to the Nott's home, grabbing onto the banister of the fireplace to steady herself. She swallowed hard, closing her eyes to get over her nausea before slipping out of the room carefully, making sure no one was near, especially that house-elf she couldn't hardly tolerate. She quickly made her way to the bedroom she stayed in when she was there, which she was there much more often than her own home at this point in her life, and went to change into the appropriate event attire. She slipped into an emerald gown, hurrying to fix her hair and makeup as she knew she was running quite late at that point. She didn't want to have to arrive at the event alone without the Notts, as that would surely raise questions with her father her should he be there, which she wasn't sure if he would be seeing as her brother and father had gone to Germany when summer vacation started. She left her room to go to Joseph's, hoping he was at least home to get himself ready as lately he had just been with his group of friends. She looked around his empty room in frustration, turning around to yelp and nearly jump out of her skin at the sight of him in his skeletal mask and pointed hood of sorts. He slipped his mask off along with his hood, his eyes looking distant as he watched her. She shook her head, sneering at him.

"Adorable outfit, Josie. Even more adorable to think you and your little friends all match."

His eyes flashed but she ignored it, noticing his blood covered hands and she made a sound in frustration, moving forward to grab them.

"Don't you know how late you are?" She demanded, staring at the blood that she knew wasn't his own before pulling out her wand to wash them. "Your parents probably already left and it doesn't look right for us to show up separately from them."

"Where have you been lately, Freya? The couple times I've been home I haven't seen you," he said smoothly, his eyes returning back to their more present state as he stripped himself of his clothes. Freya grabbed him a suit to change into, tossing it to him impatiently.

"I've been around. Do you expect me to stay locked in a tower as you go run around with your friends, playing your demented games? No, Joseph. I'd rather busy myself."

"You know I don't care what you do, Freya," he said dismissively, waving his hand. "I was only curious."

"We don't have time to be curious. Come on!" She snapped, leaving his room as he changed to go downstairs, relieved to find his parents chatting with each other when she got there.

At the Flint event, Freya scanned the couples in the room, searching to see if she saw either of her family members present. She let out a breath of relief when she didn't, putting on a relaxed smile to greet the people around her, putting herself into her familiar routine as she worked through the event as she was meant to, perfectly charming the adults around her.

"Miss Krat. You look very well," came a silken male voice behind her, causing an odd chill to run down her spine as she turned around to find the married couple.

"I don't believe we've spoken very much over the years, but I suppose it's never too late to begin," Mrs. Greengrass said, her eyes trailing down Freya's form calmly.

Freya ignored her desire to recoil from the eerily perfect pair as she greeted them with enthusiasm, her eyes catching on the icy ones of Mrs. Greengrass, eyes that perfectly matched her sons.

"No need to put on such a show, my dear," the woman said, amusement in her tone. "We've heard how you really act."

Freya felt her face falter and her mind spun in wonder of what she could be referring to, thinking of what her son had said to her the day she had been forcibly sat next to him.

"Don't worry, dear girl. We will keep it to ourselves," Mr. Greengrass nearly purred to her, his eyes watching her just as intently as his wife.

"After all, none of us are really as we seem, are we? It's a game of fronts. We are ever so curious of what the Notts must be hiding behind theirs. You of all people would have that knowledge, no?" The beautiful and far too perfect woman said, a cruelty behind her polite eyes.

Freya felt an alarm go off in her head as a wave of defensiveness for the family she cared most about was almost threatened in away by this woman. She laughed lightly, keeping her expression unfazed. "Mrs. Greengrass, if the Notts had any secrets I'm sure they wouldn't even tell me. They have so much to lose, I can't imagine them risking that," she told them lightheartedly, making a show of looking over to Joseph's parents in amused admiration before looking back to the couple in front of her.

"What a good liar you are," Mrs. Greengrass praised, nearly beaming before examining Freya's body again.

"I'm not-"

"Our son tells us you were not thrilled at the news that we had written to your father of our interest in you. Surely our son has done nothing to offend you, we hope. We would not be happy with him if he were to embarrass our family in such a way," Mr. Greengrass said, a mockingly false concern in his tone.

"No. No, he's done nothing, Mr. Greengrass. He's been more than fine. I was not upset to hear you writing to my father, only flattered. Though unfortunately it's pretty clear which family I'm most likely going to be married into."

"You're right, Miss. Krat," came Mrs. Greengrass. "Though it's never too late to accept more options. I suppose we will soon find out which name ends up being yours."

Freya got back to the school just as her class had ended and she groaned in frustration, muttering her curses as she pressed her fingers against her cheek tiredly. She looked down at her now casual clothes, wondering what Abe was coming up with in his head as to why she would miss class or her telling him he didn't need to walk her that night. She was sure he assumed a lot of things, as he never questioned things further once she would show she didn't want to answer, though she knew he had a lot of questions.

Her eyes picked up the dark shade of red under her otherwise clean nails, raising her fingers to her face to eye the dried blood in confusion. When had that gotten there? Was that her blood? Had she bled? Freya frowned and examined herself to search for any source of bleeding, wondering if she had nicked herself when she had quickly changed out of her gown in her rush to get back.

"I'm guessin' you're gonna need me to tell you what happened in class tonight? What're you outside for? I would've skipped with you if you would've just asked, honey."

Freya tore her eyes from the blood to look at her muggle, eyeing his dirt covered clothes, clothes that were much more worn than what he usually wore.

"What's all over you?"

"Oh, the job had me over late tonight. Didn't have time to shower before class," he told her, shrugging.

She eyed his face, examining the light specks of dried dirt there, oddly drawn to the evidence of his hard work. None of the men she knew were ever visibly dirty this way, only dirty on the inside.

Except Joseph.

Yes, that's where the blood was from. She had grabbed his bloody hands to clean them. She swallowed in her discomfort, walking closer to Abe. "I wasn't feeling well, but I'm alright now. I don't want to back to the hotel just yet. Let's do something," she told him, shaking the image from her mind.

Abe took a step back, smiling at her sheepishly. "Sure, but you oughta let me get cleaned up first. You're lookin' just as pristine as always and I don't want to get you as filthy as me," he said, raising his hands.

Freya took one of his hands wordlessly, pulling it in front of her, palm up as she studied the dirt covered lines of his hand. His skin was rough, calloused. Filthy, and yet still most likely the cleanest male hand she'd ever touched. She slowly raised his hand to press it against her unflawed cheek, dragging it against her smooth skin to feel the dried dirt crumble from his skin to fall over her own, marking her otherwise perfect face.

"You don't know what filthy means, Abraham," she murmured, gripping his hand tighter.

She closed her eyes, stepping closer to him to slide her hand around his neck, pulling his head down to press his lips to hers. She felt the surprise of his expression in the way his lips shifted against hers and she willed him not to pull away from her as she pressed her body closer to his, curious to feel the warmth of him, the innocence of him. She felt his other hand rest respectfully at her waist as his mouth responded to hers gently, and she instantly felt herself come apart, feeling tears gather in her eyes as she dropped his hand to throw both arms around his neck, dragging him down more to make it easier for her to kiss him deeper. His lips were so soft, and the taste of him grounded her, making her feel like she was there completely and wholly to live in this moment to kiss him. She didn't care that she was kissing a muggle, she didn't care that she was attempting to _mold_ herself against this muggle. He wasn't simply a muggle, but a _good man_ and Freya had never believed they actually existed. The surprise to her advances alone proved that he never had any other intentions but pure ones in his kindness towards her. She wasn't even sure if he _wanted_ her this way or if he was only kissing her back to avoid hurting her feelings.

"Hold on," he said against her mouth, breaking their kiss. "You're crying. What's wrong? What happened?"

She nearly whimpered at the loss of contact and she pressed her hips against his, hoping to draw out the more natural desires in him as she needed his mouth back to hers. She needed to lose herself in this man, her muggle.

She saw his worried expression waver as a sliver of lust touched his eyes, exciting her as she knew now that he did want her just as she was used to men wanting her. Except he was nothing like any of those men, and that was what made her want him back, and she never wanted anyone back.

"Kiss me again," she told him firmly, ignoring her tearful eyes. "I want you to kiss me again."

He watched her for a few moments more before he took her face into his hands properly this time, tilting her head up to kiss her with full intention, his lips now feverish against hers. Her arms fell from his neck and she pushed her hands up his shirt to trace the lines of his strong chest, the sweat of his skin slick against her fingertips as they explored him, wanting him.

She knew she was completely gone now, and she didn't think she minded.


	41. Chapter 41

"Vy," Ophelia sighed, collapsing onto her friend's bed in her lack of enthusiasm. "I _really_ don't want to waste a night of my winter break at some boring Ministry party with you."

"You think I want to go? You're my best friend. It's your job to do these things for me. You have to be my date. Besides," Violet said, turning from the mirror to smirk at Ophelia. "You make my family look nice and _progressive_ , bringing a muggle-born along."

"Lovely," she replied dryly, rolling her eyes. "I love being your token muggle-born."

"I know!" She said brightly, touching up her makeup. "Your boyfriend will be there."

Ophelia's lips parted as she was taken off guard and her eyebrows came together as she began to protest. "No, Violet. I'm not going then. Why would he be there?"

"Aldrich Greengrass works in the Department of Mysteries, as do many of his type of pure-bloods, so naturally him and his family will be there. You'll get to see Daddy Greengrass. It will be so exciting," Violet purred, grabbing Ophelia's wrist to pull her from the bed.

"I don't want to see them!" She hissed, yanking her wrist away. "Besides, I completely forgot this would be an uppity pure-blood fest before I agreed. _Did_ I even agree?"

"No," Violet said, shrugging as she pushed Ophelia in front of her vanity. "Now finish getting ready so we can go. I'll introduce you to some _older_ pure-blood men who wish to appear 'progressive' like us. Perhaps they will ruffle your boyfriend's feathers."

"I doubt it," Ophelia muttered, fixing her hair up as her friend ordered. "I doubt he'd be jealous of blood traitors."

"Isn't he a blood traitor?" Violet giggled, leaning next to Ophelia's shoulder to look at her in the mirror, her eyes glittering. "At least according to the type of family he comes from. The term varies in meaning depending on which pure-blood you ask."

"Seeing as he brushes it off as if it didn't happen I'm going to say no, no he's not a blood traitor."

"You still haven't given me any details," Violet pouted, sitting next to her on the corner of the stool in front of her vanity. "Was he good? Did you actually orgasm? Men are bad at that sometimes you know, and they're usually always horrid at the first time, but a lot of those pure-blood boys have that power trip mentality when they're able to-"

"Please stop," Ophelia interrupted her, looking towards the crack of her bedroom door. "I don't want your parents to hear. You're horrible about keeping your voice low, and by the way! Edric heard what you said last year when you were encouraging me to sleep with him. Thanks for that one."

"Did he? So I'm partly responsible for your healthy dose of excitement?"

"Healthy," Ophelia scoffed. "Yeah, allowing myself to be used and degraded is really healthy."

"Oh, are we getting ready for a pity party instead of a Ministry party? Do I need to bring snacks?"

Ophelia shoved her irritably off the bench, shaking her head as she grumbled.

"Don't be so pitiful about this, Fee. You fucked. Life goes on. He's not a complete piece of shit and he isn't spreading it around the school. Not that he'd want that going around anyway, but.."

"Exactly," Ophelia sighed. "I know. I'm fine. I'm not upset. I knew what to expect, but I just wish he wasn't still so.. The same. I would rather him avoid me, but he's still being charming and kind. Well, mostly anyway. He was rude during our last class before break when he was using what you said about him against me. Again, thanks for that."

"You mean you wish he wasn't still making you _fancy_ him," Violet teased, poking her in the side. "You want him to be a dick instead."

"It would make it easier, yes."

"Or maybe you'd still be attracted to him if he was an arsehole. You could be into that. Girls without fathers sometimes end up like that, or just girls who get bored of nice boys."

"You know, some would find you too insensitive to tolerate."

"It's a good thing you're not 'some', now isn't it?" Violet beamed, grabbing her cloak. "Come on!"

Ophelia stood to examine herself in Violet's dress in the mirror of the vanity, pursing her lips at her appearance. It was a simple gown, black and slightly form fitting in places with an open back. Her hair was done up intricately for once, which she knew how to do because her grandmother loved spending far too much time on updos, which was why she always had her hair down now after hours of torture in front of her grandmother as a child. Her appearance would have to do, as she knew it wasn't getting any better.

As soon as they arrived to the party, Ophelia was certain she should have never allowed herself to be dragged to the event. It was much bigger than she had expected along with being louder, and she knew the volume of parties only went up as the night progressed. Violet began naming people immediately, and she couldn't help but feel small in the fact that Violet knew nearly everyone important in the magical world while Ophelia knew next to no one. She was familiar with a couple of the friends of Violet's father from who he worked with in the Department of Magical Cooperation, but she could count those on her hand. Her eyes scanned the room slowly, noticing the divide in groups before Violet grabbed her arm, dragging her to the side of the room where it was a bit more quiet while she glanced around. "Let's find your boyfriend, Fee."

"No. Let's not," Ophelia sighed. "Please stop being so irritating. You know I'm already uncomfortable."

"Don't be uncomfortable," Violet said, rolling her eyes. "You're acting as if you have your blood status written on your forehead."

"It seems like I do!" She hissed back, noticing the judging eyes of a regal looking witch that passed them slowly.

"Don't be so dramatic or I'll go through with what I said about setting you up with an older pure-blood boy. I'll make you _dance_ with him in front of everyone. Maybe you'll get to dance with Greengrass."

"Why on Earth would he publicly touch me, Violet?"

"Oh, most of them don't act like they hate muggle-borns outright in public. Especially a more political family who retain their ranks through connections and knowledge like the Greengrass family, especially not in front of the Ministry, and especially after he-who-must-not-be-named happened. It's too frowned upon at this point socially. Look. Lucius Malfoy for instance. That blonde man with the long hair. Sexy, no?"

"No," she replied, grimacing at the man she was referring to. "But yes, I see him. Go on."

Violet rolled her eyes. "Your taste in men continues to be lacking. Anyway, the Malfoy family is _definitely_ a family that would not even allow their skin to _touch_ a muggle-born. They're that dramatic, but you won't see Lucius sneering at someone like you in front of the Ministry at a party like this. Look at his son, isn't he adorable? That's Draco. The woman fussing over Draco is Narcissa. She's Bellatrix Black's sister, the crazy woman in Azkaban. Her other sister was disowned for marrying a muggle-born, but Narcissa made up for it a bit by marrying into arguably the highest ranked family in their little rich community. Well, at the moment. The families switch out quite often."

"Hmm," Ophelia hummed, examining the handsome little boy and his gorgeous mother who was dressed in a classic, scarlet red gown that made her hard to miss. "Seems pointless."

"It is, but they'll never accept that so we get to keep enjoying their drama!" Her friend said brightly before jabbing her in the ribs with her elbow, motioning to the side entrance of the large room. "Look. There's your boyfriend's family. I don't see him though."

Ophelia gasped in pain, glaring at her friend. "Maybe he's not coming," she mumbled hopefully, turning to look at the family her friend was motioning towards.

"Of course he's coming. Don't be ridiculous. As if Daddy Greengrass would allow his prestigious son to miss the biggest Ministry event of the year."

As she was speaking, Ophelia's eyes caught hold of "Daddy Greengrass", immediately knowing it was him. He so closely resembled his son that it was hard to mistake him for anyone else, the only difference being age and his overall demeanor. He held the same polite and calm expression that Ophelia was used to in his son, but his eyes held something much more cruel and intentional in their false kindness. Suddenly, Edric seemed much less intimidating in comparison. Her eyes fell to his wife next to him who was dressed in a white and gold gown, finding her slightly less recognizable from when she had encountered her in the summer before school as she seemed more compliant and soft next to her husband, though her expression still confident as it feigned warmth towards the other guests she greeted.

"Of course you've met Freya," Violet commented. "From when you ruined poor Charlotte's life. She's much more amazing when she's not around her husband."

"Why am I not shocked you think someone like her is amazing?"

"Someone like what? A bitch?" Violet asked, smirking at Ophelia. "What are you saying, Fee?"

Ophelia looked down from Freya to the two young girls standing obediently next to each other, both smiling at the men speaking with their father. She didn't notice how beautiful the other sister was before since she had a horrible look on her face the last time she had seen her, but both girls were picture perfect children. They reminded her of the child models that were posed as flower girls in bridal design advertisements.

"Oh look. The Weasleys," her friend commented, throwing a distasteful look in the direction of the large redheaded family. "See. People like the Weasleys are here. You'll be fine."

"Isn't your family basically like them? Blood traitors? That's a rude tone."

"Oh, Fee," her friend whined. "Please don't say we are like the Weasleys. That's just cruel. They're a poor, silly mess."

"I'm poor," Ophelia sighed, shaking her head at her friend and her rudeness.

"Yes, but you're not tacky. They're a mess. Besides, don't get all sensitive on me now. You know I'm not rich, just well off. People like your _boyfriend_ are rich, stupid rich actually. If only you knew the designers of the wizarding world," Violent groaned enviously, looking at the Malfoy wife and then to Edric's mother. "Those dresses probably cost a fourth of my house."

"They just look like nice dresses to me," she said, uninterested with her friend's comments on fashion, glancing back at Edric's family just as he arrived to join them, leaning down to peck both of his sisters on the mouths.

"Wonder what they'd think to know where his mouth has been," her friend said, nudging her.

"It's sweet. Their relationship," Ophelia murmured, watching them from across the room.

"Not sweet for you. The goal is to get him away from his family."

"How can you say that? I don't want want him to lose his family. Besides, we both know you're being unrealistic. I'm not anything to him."

"I disagree. Anyway, you think they're cute now, but they'll grow up to be nasty bitches who see you as scum just as girls like Blythe do."

"I can't believe you'd wish someone to be disowned, Vy. That's just.. Nasty."

" _They_ are nasty, and if you want a piece of what they have you have to be nasty too. That's how they got where they are. They took it. Freya herself sold out her fiancé's family, and her fiancé was one of the followers of he-who-must-not-be-named. Your boyfriend's mother almost married someone who believed in _murdering_ witches like you," Violet told her seriously. "You know I like drama. These people will get what's coming to them ultimately."

Ophelia chose not to argue with Violet as she tried to move her gaze from Edric and his family, not wanting him to spot her or make it obvious she was staring at them.

Somehow, later in the evening, Violet had managed to get her stuck in the arms of a few different men. Ophelia knew how to dance somewhat, as she had had an a bit of infatuation with dancing when she was younger.

Well, she thought as much until she saw some of the pure-blood _children_ effortlessly gliding along the floor together, their technique and posture flawless and ridiculously perfect for being so young.

"Never thought a little girl would make me feel so inadequate at something I thought myself at least decent at," Ophelia laughed to her friend when she finished the song, which had been slow and simple, shaking her head at the children. The next song was quicker, and she noticed Astoria on the side of the room looking up at Edric reluctantly before he grinned down at her and pushed her forward by the head with his index finger. When his sister stepped away from him, Ophelia fully took in Edric's formal appearance in his well tailored dress robes and he seemed to stand even taller in this setting. She bit into her tongue, pulling her gaze away from his far too attractive form forcibly to watch his little sister meet the blonde little boy, Draco, in the middle of the floor where Daphne had gone as well to stand in front of a dark skinned boy.

"Hello, Mrs. Greengrass," Violet said loudly as the woman walked by, causing Ophelia to shrink back slightly as she fought the urge to strangle her friend.

Freya stopped to glance at Violet halfheartedly before her eyes slid over to Ophelia, her eyes flashing with intrigue before she waltzed her way over to the two of them. "Miss Enderson. Miss..?"

"Hale, Mrs. Greengrass," she responded uncomfortably, shifting where she stood.

"Wonderful! Lovely to see you here. You look much better now that you've made a bit of effort," Freya said, motioning to Ophelia's hair and face.

"Thank you.." She said slowly, looking beyond the woman to her children, her eyes widening slightly in surprise at their skill level as they had begun to dance. "Your children are very talented."

The woman blinked, making little effort in throwing a look over her shoulder at her daughters before looking back to the two of them. "I suppose. You do mean my girls, right?" She asked, a mocking smirk crossing her lips. "I've been told that you're my son's Astronomy partner."

Before Ophelia could respond, a younger woman joined the conversation from the side of them, glancing distastefully between her and Violet. "Don't you believe you're better suited over at _that_ end?" The woman asked, wrinkling her nose and motioning towards the end with the less important of the Ministry members along with people like the Weasleys, her eyes dragging down Ophelia's figure. "I don't believe 'Hale' is a name suited for this section of the event.."

"Darling, and I say darling as I have no idea _your_ name, I'm ever so confused as to why you're interrupting my question with your implications that someone here does not belong. Please, take my advice and only speak to others as if they're beneath you only if you are well above everyone around you. Seeing as I have no idea who you are.." Freya laughed, giving the woman an unimpressed once over. "Well, this is quite embarrassing for you, isn't it?"

Ophelia stared at Mrs. Greengrass, shocked at her behavior. She wasn't sure if she could take her words as coming to her defense, but either way she took pleasure in seeing the offending woman's face flush as she stuttered out an awkward response before excusing herself from their presence.

"Ophelia, that's your name, no? Right. Ophelia, I strongly advise you to stop caring about the opinions of those who care nothing for you, as I have to say your insecurities that you wear so openly on your face are pathetic," Freya told her, a smile still on her face. She reached forward and tapped her finger underneath Ophelia's chin, causing Ophelia to lift her chin in response as she stared at the woman in bewilderment. "Fix it," she announced enthusiastically, glancing over at Narcissa who was eyeing both Violet and Ophelia in disgust. "Narcissa, love, you must get that look off of your face. We mustn't appear so terribly close minded." Freya left the two of them alone, walking over to Narcissa who turned her face away in response, joining her group of women.

"I think she likes you," Violet said, grinning after Freya.

"It's not even cute anymore. It's just impressive," Ophelia commented, shaking her head in her awe at the children dancing so well in sync, changing the subject from Edric's mother. "They aren't even focusing on their feet at all."

"Of all the things you could be impressed by and you're impressed by dancing," Violet said flatly, shaking her head. "Honestly."

"Well, look at them! I'm not even sure what kind of dancing this is. It reminds me of quickstep, actually."

"You're so boring," Violet groaned. "At least talk about how good your boyfriend looks all dressed up or something."

"Please keep your voice down."

"Stop being so paranoid. No one suspects you to be fucking him. I would bet everything on it," Violet replied, though she lowered her voice considerably.

Ophelia allowed her eyes to fall back on Edric, following his slightly uncomfortable look to the black boy Daphne was dancing with and Ophelia's brows came together in concern.

"Don't tell me they're racist too," she said as Edric's gaze quickly returned back to it's regular expression and he moved his attention elsewhere.

"What?" Violet asked, squinting at her in confusion. "Oh. That. No, I told you. That's a muggle thing."

"Then why was he looking at that little boy that way?"

"Blaise Zabini? I don't know. Maybe because his mummy murders all of his daddies. I guess Evelyn must be with someone in the Ministry at the moment," Violet said, glancing around the room. "Surely he must know his fate."

"Violet. Your dramatics again."

"It's true! It's not gossip. She really does murder her husbands to be left their money."

"Mhm." Ophelia didn't necessarily want to be convinced further, or think about such a woman any further.

Violet looked over at Astoria when the song finished, motioning to the little girl. "Yes, please. Just put me on a platter in front of the whole family," Ophelia snapped angrily as she saw what she was doing.

She loved her friend, but she really was horrible at times.

Astoria eyed Violet suspiciously before a mischievous look came into her eyes before she slowly made her way over to her, tilting her head back and forth. "Hi, Violet," she said, smiling at her, not seeming to notice Ophelia. "What is it?"

"Well I just wanted to tell you what a good dancer you are."

"I know," Astoria announced confidently, looking over to the little blonde boy with pursed lips. "I'm even better than Daphne, and she's older than me. It's why I danced with Draco and she danced with Blaise, even though she wishes she got to dance with Draco. I don't know why. He's not fun at all. I like dancing with my friend better."

"Who's your friend?" Violet asked, fighting a grin at Astoria's looks at the Malfoy boy.

"Theo," Astoria sighed. "He's way more fun. Draco is mean. And dumb."

"Theodore Nott?" Violet asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise, the grin she'd been fighting spreading across her face.

"Yes. Edric says he's not my friend, but he's not the boss."

Ophelia fought her own grin at that as she watched the adorable little girl fold her hands in front of her. "I'm so _tired_ ," she complained. "Hot too. Maybe I have a fever."

"Well, you were just dancing a lot," Violet pointed out.

"Mother says if I get sweaty after only a bit of dancing it means I'm fat and need to take better care of my shape," Astoria said, shaking her head. "And I'm not fat."

Ophelia grimaced, looking at Violet uncomfortably at the thought. What a horrible thing to say to a young girl.

"They always make us show off for them," Astoria went on, scowling. "It's so annoying."

"Are you supposed to be complaining so much?" Violet asked, a scolding tone in her amused voice.

"No, but you're just a blood traitor. So it doesn't really matter," Astoria said, stepping close to them so no one else would hear her words. "Sorry! I'm just telling the truth. My brother doesn't like you very much. He smiles, but actually he doesn't like most of the people he smiles at. It's aaaall a lie." The girl giggled, pressing a finger to her lips as she looked up at Violet.

"That's alright, Astoria. I wasn't counting on him liking me very much. I won't tell though," Violet replied, giving Ophelia a look.

"Do you want to know another secret?" Astoria asked, squinting up at Violet.

"I would love nothing more than to hear another secret."

"Do you know that girl?" She asked, not very discreetly pointing out a pretty witch in the other corner of the room.

"Yes. What about her?"

Astoria giggled, twisting back and forth slightly. "I'll tell you! Be patient."

Violet blinked, crossing her arms as Astoria made her wait.

Astoria looked all around, seeming very amused at herself as she forced Violet to "be patient", and Ophelia could see why Edric loved her so much. Violet gave Ophelia a side eyed look in irritation and Ophelia smirked back at her, pleased her friend was the one being aggravated for once.

"Well! I was eavesdropping on Edric and his friends talking, I'm good at that, and they said that she had sex with Gabriel," Astoria told her in a hushed voice before beaming. "She's not supposed to do that before marriage."

"Sex?" Ophelia blurted out, shocked at the little girl speaking of such things. "How do you know anything about that?"

"I'm eight," Astoria replied scowling, as if that explained everything. "Anyway, can you believe she did that? How will she get married now? Now she's.. Well. You're just not supposed to have sex before marriage. That's for your husband only."

"Otherwise you're a slut." Ophelia looked to Daphne who had walked over to them, her face stern as she looked up at Violet. "Who are you talking about, Tori?"

"No one," Astoria chirped. "And you're not supposed to say things like that in public. You'll get a scolding."  
"You're not supposed to talk about sex either," Daphne sniffed, glancing at Violet again. "Why are you over here?"

"Why are you in my business? Go away."

"You should be around parents and _important_ adults," Daphne told her firmly, taking her arm. "We are meant to be impressing people right now."

"I'm letting you get a head start since I always beat you at everything anyway. You're welcome!" Astoria quipped dismissively, pulling her arm away. "Goodbye."

Daphne narrowed her eyes in response, examining her sister coolly before walking away, crossing over the room.

"Who is she tattling to? My mother?"

"Your brother it looks like," Violet replied in her laughter at Astoria's rudeness towards her sister, both her and Ophelia watching Daphne go to Edric.

Astoria made a small scoffing noise, pushing her shoulders back. "Why?" She giggled. "He won't do anything to me."

Edric looked up from Daphne to look over at his sister, his eyes moving up to lock with Ophelia's for a moment before he moved his eyes from hers, his expression neutral before he narrowed his eyes back at Astoria.

Astoria glanced behind her to see her brother, turning back around quickly to act as if she didn't see him, looking up and around at the ceiling.

"He's indicating to me that he wants you," Violet told her, nodding towards Edric.

"Don't look at him," Astoria responded, crossing her arms.

"He's counting on his fingers now," her friend told the little girl warningly.

Astoria's stubborn face faltered and she hesitated for a moment before huffing and moving to make her way over to her brother, colliding with the girl in her path, the girl's drink tipping over.

Charlotte Blythe narrowed her eyes at the small girl, her face furious. "You horrid brat. I swear you are one of the most worthless children I've ever met. To think I was nearly stuck with you for the rest of my life."

Astoria opened her mouth to respond before glancing back at her father who appeared behind her, her face falling into a sad, apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. I promise that I didn't mean to," she insisted sadly, shrinking back towards her father.

Ophelia tried to duck her face, hoping to not be recognized by the bitch, though when she noticed the fearful expression on Charlotte's face as Aldrich Greengrass regarded her she was sure she didn't have to worry about her closely analyzing anyone in that moment.

Mr. Greengrass placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder, inclining his head thoughtfully towards Charlotte. "Miss Blythe. You look well," he said smoothly, his smile falling into a concerned frown as he looked down at Astoria who peered up at him with big eyes. "I'm terribly sorry about Astoria. I was not aware you had such a distaste for her. Has she done something?"

"No, sir," Charlotte said quickly. "I'm just not feeling very well. She's only a child. I shouldn't take my frustrations out on her."

Aldrich clicked his tongue, shaking his head gently. "You're not feeling well? Why is that, darling? Troubles at home?" He asked, his voice heavy with a sweet concern as he watched Charlotte intently, his eyes boring into hers in a way that Ophelia almost felt bad for the girl as there was just something about the man that made her feel uneasy.

An odd, pained expression came over Charlotte's face and her eyes became unfocused. Ophelia watched in alarm as Charlotte's body trembled, the drink in her hand nearly spilling over again.

Aldrich stepped towards her, placing a hand on her arm. "I agree, you do seem unwell," he sighed and the girl dropped her glass, her hands coming to hold her head. "There isn't much in this world that can make us feel worse than our own demons, I'm afraid."

Ophelia looked around wildly, trying to figure out if anyone was noticing the bizarre exchange between the young girl and older wizard, though no one seemed bothered. Ophelia grabbed Violet's wrist when tears began to stream from Charlotte's eyes as she stared straight ahead before she stumbled back, pulling herself away from him as she stuttered out apologies before rushing away.

"Astoria, sweetheart, you must be careful. The girl is obviously quite fragile," Aldrich scolded his daughter, smoothing her hair before nudging her forward. "Go join your sister please."

Astoria complied respectfully and Aldrich turned his sight onto Violet, nodding his head in greeting. "Good evening, Miss Enderson. I hope my daughter was not disturbing you as well."

"Oh no, Mr. Greengrass," Violet replied, smiling uneasily as she pried her wrist from Ophelia's grasp slowly. "She was perfectly polite."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'm sure she never meant to upset Miss Blythe." Aldrich's gaze settled on Ophelia and she felt the urge to run away, now terrified of the father of the boy she was so drawn to. "And who are you, love?"

"You wouldn't know me, sir," Ophelia replied, her voice somehow much more confident than she felt before she shrugged. "Just the token muggle-born."

Aldrich's lips twitched slightly and he inclined his head respectfully. "I see. Well, there is respect to be earned in being frank. Perhaps one day the tables will turn in your favor."

"You mean perhaps one day it will be your lot that will be looked down upon?" She asked him, scolding herself inwardly for being so bold.

His eyes only held amusement as he regarded her thoughtfully. "We will see. Son," he said, sliding his eyes over to Edric who was now across the room from where he had been and within earshot of them somehow. "Make yourself useful." With that, Aldrich left the two of them as Edric took his place, offering his hand to Ophelia.

"Don't make a scene. I beg you," he said quietly between his smiling teeth. Ophelia frowned, looking down at his hand before taking it somewhat reluctantly.

Ophelia allowed him to pull her onto the floor of dancing couples, settling herself into the proper position as she tried to regain the composure of her face as her stomach flipped over on itself all while her thoughts were pounding against her skull.

"Relax. You're perfectly fine, though I'm not sure if you're purposely trying to taunt me by presenting yourself to my family like you have been all night," he said, staring ahead as he spoke to her, acting only engaged just enough to still be considered polite.

"No. I'm not taunting you. It's not me. I don't want to cause any problems, and," she rushed out before biting her lip, forcing herself to calm down and comply with his request to not make a scene of herself. "I certainly don't want to cross your father after whatever just happened between him and Charlotte."

"You're really upset over that, I can see."

"Why wouldn't I be?! What happened?"

"Nothing you should be so upset about. Just calm down. What did she say to him?" He asked calmly, leading her easily as he avoided dancing too close to any of the other couples to maintain being out of listening distance.

"She didn't say anything to him. She called your sister a brat and said she couldn't believe she was almost stuck with her for the rest of her life."

"To be fair, I'm quite sure I've said nearly the same," he replied, his tone amused.

Ophelia looked up at him in bewilderment. "This isn't a joke. She was crying!"

"She will be fine. She shouldn't be insulting my family whether Astoria really is a brat or not."

Ophelia sighed, forcing herself to drop it against her better judgment as she fought to calm her head, her thoughts slowly being replaced with the realization of what she was doing and who she was in the arms of so publicly.

"This is making yourself useful? What, using me to make me seem like your family doesn't hate muggle-borns to the point where you can't touch us?" She asked, her tone bitter as she suddenly had the desire to rest her head on his chest and comfort herself with his embrace.

"Yes," he replied simply, his eyes still not on hers.

"Well. I'm so glad the truth is finally coming out."

"I don't recall every being untruthful with you, Ophelia."

"Well you certainly fake kindness towards me."

"Let's not argue about this here, love. It's not a good idea. I don't want my father to notice you as someone I actually know more than just another schoolmate," he murmured, watching his father closely who was paying no attention to them whatsoever.

"So when can we argue then? I want to talk to you," she insisted quietly, his uneasiness making her uneasy as well.

"Are you unable to go just a small break without me? How endearing."

"Edric," she pressed between her teeth, ignoring his comment.

"Fine. I'll contact you after this about meeting somewhere."

"Contact me how?"

"No need for so many questions. I'll contact you. We will meet. Do you not trust me?"

"I have no reason to trust you," she mumbled, feeling weirdly emotional at her words.

"I've given you absolutely no reason not to trust me. Now go home, Ophelia. Since you've already been pushing yourself at other pure-blood men tonight, at the very least allow me to be the last."


	42. Chapter 42

Draco entered his bedroom to find Astoria still sound asleep, her face appearing as though she didn't have a care in the world as she slept the day away, her lips parted and smushed halfway against her pillow. He gave her sleeping form a dull look before he flicked his wand at the curtains that covered his windows and the doors to his balcony to bring a sudden burst of light into the room. He watched her delicate features scrunch up slightly, but that was the extent of her stirring.

"Should the Death Eaters make it into our home, you surely won't be a difficult catch for them," he told her, not that she was listening to him in her comfortable sleep.

She always required being woken up, and if she wasn't she would sleep well into the afternoon no matter how early she went to bed. Draco went forward to her bedside table to pick up her glass of water that she always kept there, calmly pouring it over her face. Astoria curled in on herself tightly before she gasped and spluttered, rubbing water out of her eyes and sitting up in alarm.

"Good morning," he drawled, eyeing her as she fussed herself awake.

"Why did you _do_ that?" She croaked, looking up at him with both furious and sorrowful eyes. "What a horrible way to wake someone up. You're _so_ terrible!"

"I'm terrible?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at her. "I see. Perhaps I should stop allowing you to sleep until lunchtime and actually expect you to wake up when I do at a reasonable hour. Watch your temper."

Astoria rubbed her eyes again, her limbs moving slowly as they were behind in waking up with the rest of her. She muttered something under her breath before pushing herself out of bed, going to his bathroom to towel herself off.

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you properly."

"You don't wake up at a reasonable hour. You wake up before the sun is out," she told him, looking at him with slightly scowling eyes. "And I'd wake up to eat breakfast with you, but you're usually gone in the mornings."

"So because I'm not here that means you cease to function?" Draco examined the subtle pout to her face, intrigued by her small shows of new personality as their time together progressed.

"Well who am I to wake up for? I like sleeping, but you're right I should wake up earlier. I will ask the house-elf to wake me.. It's not correct for me to sleep in as I am."

Draco rolled his eyes to the ceiling, staring at it for a moment. "I don't require you to get up for no reason, Astoria. Sleep. I don't care. It's not as if you could be doing anything useful, as you're to stay in the Manor for now."

"Then why did you pour water on me?" She nearly demanded, pressing the towel against her hair.

Draco tsked quietly, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door by his shoulder. "How liberal your tone has gotten with me."

"Draco," she sighed. "You just poured water on my face to wake me up. I beg you to be reasonable as I try to regain my senses."

"You _beg_ me? I'd prefer you on your knees for that."

Astoria blinked, pride crossing her expression to harden it ever so slightly at the thought. "I'd rather not."

Hmm. He'd get her on her knees for him in due time, though not necessarily for that reason, and a pretty sight that would be when that time came.

Pride had no place in front of one's husband, she should certainly understand that by now.

"I'm going to tell you something, but I don't want you to lose your mind over it," he told her, watching her eyes levelly.

She frowned, setting the towel aside to cross her arms across her chest, the silk gown she was wearing now clung to her breasts in certain areas where the water had fallen which caused his eyes to flicker downward more than once. "Obviously it's going to be something upsetting then, isn't it? It's not very fair to tell me I can't react strongly if you know it's going to elicit a strong reaction."

"Are you expecting fairness, love? Truly? At this point in your life?"

Astoria appeared to clench her teeth together, her well angled jaw clenching slightly and she took a deep breath in through her nose. "Yes, I know. Life isn't fair. I will do my best not to lose my mind over whatever you tell me," she told him, watching him expectantly.

"Pucey told me his wards were set off."

She stiffened, her face draining of what little color it had and her large eyes searched his wildly, walking forward towards him.

"By who? To what extent? What else did he say? Is my sister alright?"

"They were only set off, Astoria. No one got through, and it wasn't necessarily them. The Pucey family makes enemies as well just as all of our families do, but I figured you would want to know."

Astoria's face crumbled into worry and she put her hand on his chest, staring up at him. "Can't she stay here? I don't want to be separated. I want to be with her. You know it was them.."

"No, she cannot stay here," he snorted. "She has her own husband, and I don't need two wives to look after. You're enough work as it is."

"Work? What have I done to warrant being called 'work'?" She asked, stepping back a step in slight offense.

"What have you done," he repeated, fighting a scoff. "Ah. Speaking of what you have done, your boyfriend will be here in a moment if he is not here already."

"My boyfriend," she said slowly, her eyes falling down, the worry for her sister momentarily forgotten. "You're allowing him back into our home?

Their home, was it?

"You didn't think the world stopped simply because you're an unfaithful wife, did you? The Notts were heavily involved with the Death Eaters, and though it seems they aren't targeting previous followers it is bound to happen eventually. Besides, Blaise wants him here, and he already has it in for you. Let's not keep him too unhappy."

"I'll stay upstairs," she said tightly, looking away from him.

"Oh no. I think it would be best if you joined us downstairs. You end up listening into our conversations either way, don't you?"

Astoria's face fell even more and his eyes flashed coldly at her emotional reaction. "I don't want to see him, Draco," she said quietly, a pleading look on her face.

"Mmm. Unfortunate. You'll have to keep your legs closed at the sight of him, will you be able to manage or shall I have to hold them together?"

Astoria eyes snapped to his, fully offended at his words now. "I never had my legs open for any man but you. Please do not insult me in that way."

"A bold request coming from a woman who requested another man to touch her."

"I said I was _sorry_ ," she cried, throwing her hands up slightly. "Many times. I can't take it back. Do you want to find me a time-turner? Get one for me and I'll fix it. Do you think I enjoy feeling like less of a woman because I can't even get my one duty to be a good wife right? That's all I want to do. I just want to be a good wife and live quietly with you. My response to Theodore was fresh schoolgirl emotions. I was vulnerable, and I never liked you at school so of course I wasn't thinking of you with new emotions and unfamiliar memories in my mind from Hogwarts. I just want to move on from it. I don't want to live in the past."

"I don't believe they were only schoolgirl emotions, Astoria," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Based on what I've seen, you were close to Nott most of your childhood. Don't pretend that it was some petty crush and you just couldn't help yourself _in the moment._ "

"I don't think of my childhood," she said harshly. "I don't remember it well."

"You choose not to."

"I don't want to argue about this. Please, Draco," she said miserably. "Don't make me go down with you."

"I will make you. Now enough arguing, and cheer up. I'm sure you miss him terribly," he sneered, a cold smile spreading across his face. "Perhaps a lover's embrace is in order."

Astoria looked away from him, turning to the mirror as she neutralized her expression to fix her hair from the state it had gotten itself into from her sleep. "I won't touch him."

"Oh, please do, love," he urged her mockingly. "What's stopping you now that didn't stop you before?"

She turned back to move around him and he caught her wrist, yanking her back in front of him. "I don't recall excusing you."

He expected her to argue with him or defend herself given how she had been acting lately, but she looked simply looked up at him and nodded, not pulling her wrist from his grasp.

"I'm sorry. I was only trying to get dressed so I could come down with you," she murmured, watching him expectantly.

"Mmm." He slowly raised her hand to his mouth, kissing the palm of it as he stared at her face. "Good girl then. Continue."

She waited for him release her before she began to move away, making herself presentable and he watched her while his mind wandered, thinking to the Puceys again. He was confident in that Adrian's family would have their home well protected, but it was quite unclear what they were up against. He didn't want anything to happen to Daphne. She was nearly the only person in his wife's life, and he didn't want her to lose another sibling. He was curious where the other had went and if her brother had been happy leaving his life, if crushing his sisters was worth it to him. Family was more important than anything in life, and Draco would never understand why someone would sacrifice it, especially a family with strong relationships as the Greengrass children had.

When she was finished, Astoria followed Draco downstairs. He could clearly see her intentionally looking directly ahead of her to avoid getting a proper look at Nott.

"Perfect. You brought the child," Blaise said coolly, though his tone did not hold anger as he had calmed down considerably since the last incident.

"Malfoy. It's been _ages_. Finally decided I'm the most useful and intelligent of the lot of us?" Nott asked, smirking at him and acting as if he was unfazed by Astoria's presence.

"Glad you don't include me in your little 'lot' or you'd lose your crown, Nott," Pucey chimed as he came in, grimacing when he saw Astoria and Nott before he gave Draco a look. "You've summoned me?"

"Yes. I've summoned you," Draco replied dully, sitting beside his wife while ignoring Nott's comment. "It's best if we all keep close, and now that they've attempted to attack you I'd say you should be here and actually _participate_ rather than fuck around."

"Fuck around? Me? Why, I'm all business, Malfoy. I have no idea what you mean," Adrian responded theatrically, placing an offended hand over his chest.

"Adrian. Why did you leave Daphne alone?" Astoria asked, looking around him worriedly.

"She's not alone. She's with my mother and my grandmother. Don't you worry your little head, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of my wife, sister dearest."

"You left her with two women," Astoria responded slowly, accusingly. "One of them being elderly."

"My mother is an amazing witch, Tor, and my grandmother is no one to fuck with. Don't be rude."

Astoria looked up at Draco, exasperation all over her face.

"Don't look at me, _Tor._ I'm in no place to tell another man how to take care of his wife."

"I'd be sending myself off if I were you, Pucey," Blaise said, raising an eyebrow at him. "The Aurors obviously don't know what they're doing. They're spending their energy focusing on us."

"Well, I _can't_ send myself off, now can I?" Adrian asked, his eyes flashing with something cold.

Astoria shifted next to Draco and he examined her expression that showed of guilt and frustration. She really did have a way of bringing such negative effects to the people around her, whether it be intentional or not.

"They really are only focusing on us," Nott said. "They want to bring in more psychologists, as if the one I'm dealing with now isn't enough, and they're specifically looking for a mudblood."

"Why does it matter? Don't they all ask the same shit?" Adrian grimaced, his eyes back to their normal state.

"Novalie said that they want a second opinion, as she understands us too well. They think she may be too numbed to sense anything."

" _Novalie_ ," Blaise mocked. "Maybe they think she's biased because she's on your dick."

"Most women are. Though I can't say I enjoy her much. I don't fancy condescending women."

"Which is why you silence them by putting them to good use," Blaise replied, waving his hand lazily.

"Yeah, you know about silencing outspoken women don't you, Zabini? I mean, I don't remember Weasley _too_ much, but-"

"Why do they think she understands us so well? She's a pure-blood?" Blaise asked Nott, cutting Adrian off.

"Yes. She's from the Eld family."

Blaise showed no recognition to the name, and Draco only faintly recognized it.

"The Eld family. They are Swedish," Astoria said slowly, as if that were meant to tell them anything. "They are quite a known family."

"If she is like us then why is she working against us?" He asked, distaste gathering in his mouth as he remembered the woman. "And why does she.. Have a career? She looked at marrying age."

Astoria sniffed, tilted her chin up slightly in response. "My questions exactly. She _threatened_ me. She threatened the both of us, actually," she said, her tone cool. "Fool. Attempting to start something with _me_? Please."

"Aha! Got it! Eld, yeah. What's her name? Novalie?" Pucey squinted at Nott. "No, I don't think that was it. But yeah, I know of them," he said knowingly, smirking in appreciation.

"Charming," he heard Astoria mutter under his breath, and he fought a smirk of his own at the jealousy she was having in place of her sister that wasn't there.

"It's brilliant that the Aurors are working so hard, gathering psychologists of different backgrounds to ask us the same, irrelevant questions they've been asking us the whole time over and over again. I feel that we are really making progress," Draco said, shaking his head. It was a wonder how they had managed to win the war.

"It doesn't make sense for them to bring in a mudblood and claim the girl understands us too well. Aren't they meant to understand us? How else will they know regular behavior from threatening?" Blaise asked, shaking his head incredulously.

"That's what they want," Astoria said quietly, her face changing. "They want us to seem threatening to an outsider so they can start plucking us off with reason. They want to start sending us to prison or to a mental hospital at the least."

Draco narrowed his eyes at this realization, grinding his teeth together. "They're getting lazy. They just want to lock us all up in belief it will stop the attacks."

"Pretty sure they want to lock us all up regardless," Adrian commented. "Especially you lot. Don't they know this type of 'us against them' behavior is what's causing uprisings against each other?"

"No. They don't know, Pucey. They don't know anything. They're fucking idiots."

"Well, I'm going to prison," Nott announced. "No mudblood is going to sit there and listen to me talk about how I didn't cry myself to sleep every night after killing their kind."

"Obviously you have to stop telling the truth," Astoria told him, finally looking at him while shaking her head at him as if he were an idiot.

"I've already been telling the truth, darling," he replied, his tone slightly mocking. "Too late to do anything about how they see my character now."

"Enjoy Azkaban then," Astoria quipped, smiling at him tightly. "I'm sure your father will help you prepare yourself."

Ah, the temperamental little wife he had next to him was quite endearing to him at the moment, though he also realized she was being rude out of _worry_ for the idiot.

"Be silent, Astoria. It is not your place to be speaking out in such a way," Draco snapped, feeling oddly as if he was interrupting a couple's quarrel. No, no. He wouldn't have that.

"Yikes," Adrian grunted, sucking in air through his teeth. "Well. You lot are obviously screwed. I'll be fine, as there's absolutely nothing wrong with my family, and my parents aren't murdering Aurors or destroying houses nor has my wife performed a very successful Cruciatus curse.. I think I'm solid."

"Seeing as you're the only one who has had evidence of an attempted attack I'd say you're not solid, Pucey," Draco scoffed.

"Have you checked your own wards, Malfoy? Could've just not alerted you right. I can't imagine there not even being an _attempt_ seeing as your home was Death Eater Headquarters for a while there," Pucey replied.

"Go on and check yourself then, by all means," he told him, standing.

"I think that's a good idea actually. I'd like to have a look as well, and perhaps we can-"

"Last time you attempted to help with the wards no one was able to come to my home properly," he cut her off irritably. Astoria seemed to believe herself more intelligent than him in every aspect, that much was evident.

Astoria watched her husband stand to go to the front of the Manor to show Adrian and Blaise to the gates where the wards began. She glanced at Theodore in slight surprise Draco had left her there without making sure they weren't left alone together, not that she'd ever let anything happen between them again.

Never again.

Astoria stood to follow behind where Draco had gone, wanting to be a part of everything too, and wanting to get away from the man watching her in that moment. She had worked so hard on not thinking about him, on pushing her feelings aside completely in hopes they'd end up buried in her past where they belonged, and both of them were completely ruining that for her now. It's as if they took pleasure in her torture, Theodore especially. At least Draco had an excuse. Theodore had claimed to love her and yet he sat there acting as everything was perfectly fine, arguing with her, _looking_ at her after what he had done to her. As if he had a right to look at her at this point.

"Astoria," he began cautiously, and instantly all the wounds she had left to be forgotten began to throb all over again.

"Don't talk to me, Theodore. It's not appropriate. _We_ are not appropriate," she hissed, walking past where he sat carefully, not wanting to be any closer to him than she had to be.

"It's nothing inappropriate, Astoria. I want to talk to you about what I was told regarding who the Aurors want to bring in," he sighed, standing to follow her before grabbing her wrist to pull her back when she didn't stop to listen to him.

Astoria froze and looked down at his hand, her body and emotions responding approvingly before her senses kicked in and she jerked her arm away, opening her mouth to snap at him before her heart sank as she remembered her husband's tricks. As soon as she recalled what he had done she felt it, as well as felt Theodore's eyes on the parts of her skin that were bare and visible as the words appeared scattered all over her body. She heard herself cry out loudly, tripping back away from him before knocking into the coffee table, jumping away from it as touching anything caused her more pain.

"Astoria," Theodore snarled in alarm and she attempted to look up at him through the dizzying pain of her tortured flesh, his face portraying that he was indeed a ruthless killer in some instances in his lifetime, and quite capable of being one in that moment.

"Please leave," she whimpered loudly, curling in on herself though she wanted desperately to be still as the friction of her clothes against the brandings the fabric covered made it hurt much, much worse. "Please leave before he comes back. I'm begging you. _Please_ do that for me."

She nearly sobbed when his face broke into pain of his own, switching between a tortured expression and a terrifyingly furious one. After hesitating for far too long he left, leaving her there to burn while she waited for Draco to help her, as there was nothing she could do to help herself aside from sitting as still as she possibly could. She panted loudly, not knowing how else to channel her pain as she didn't want to scream or yell.

Her eyes were watering nonstop by the time she heard the voices return as Draco had not attempted to come back to her until he was fully finished with what he had left to do, and he was taking his sweet time in doing it knowing exactly what was happening to her.

"What the fuck, Malfoy," she heard Adrian breathe, only barely registering the blur of his figure in her vision. She did not see Blaise, which she was more than grateful for as he would simply _love_ to see her in pain.

"I believe you should get home to your wife, Adrian," Draco suggested, sounding unbothered. "Surely you're a more proper source of protection than your mother and grandmother, no offense to them."

Her body reacted instantly to the sound of his voice, screaming at her to go to him, rub herself against him and ease her body's pain. She still didn't move, too afraid and too pained to do so.

"Malfoy, was it-"

"Inform me if something happens again," Draco interrupted him, his voice indicating that he was telling Adrian to leave.

Astoria bit her lip painfully hard to hold herself from screaming at Adrian to leave them immediately before she passed out from the merciless pain as the engravings burned and throbbed into her flesh, feeling as though they were all being freshly carved into right then at once.

She faintly heard Adrian leave and she looked up frantically, whimpering loudly when she saw Draco's form move closer.

_Please, please._

"Come now, love. You know who you belong to. Why did you need reminding?" His voice was a coo in its mocking, and she cried out again softly, trying to reply coherently.

Astoria moaned loudly in relief when his hands were finally on her skin, pressing against his hands needily as her areas of burning were replaced with soothing pleasure, her skin singing its praises as it was healed and warmed.

"I didn't touch him. I was walking away from him. Please believe me," she rushed out as she pressed her face against his neck as he worked his touch around her body and she moaned again, gently this time as she closed her eyes, both her body and mind humming.

"No worries, love. I believe this worked out perfectly fine," she listened to him purr, his tone dark as he reveled in the way he possessed her.

His, she was his.


	43. Chapter 43

Theodore struggled to breathe as the images of what he had just witnessed viciously tore into his very soul, images of his delicate and sweet witch covered in the repulsive message, her soft and flawless skin tarnished by them.

He'd kill him.

He should have expected something off when Malfoy had left Astoria alone with him, seemingly unaffected and unbothered by his nearness to his wife after she had been unfaithful to him, unfaithful with a man from his own social circle no less. Malfoy had wanted him to see the dark magic he had used on his wife to turn Theodore's gentle mannered, lively Astoria that had been stollen from him into a tortured object that Malfoy claimed to possess.

No, not stollen. He fucking _gave_ Astoria to that heartless piece of shit that didn't deserve the innocence of such a girl, didn't deserve all of the parts of her he knew nothing about because he _didn't know her._ He didn't know her as Theodore did, and he would never treat her as she was meant to be treated. It was Theodore's fault. He had made the wrong choice, _sacrificing_ her to him. He should have never left her, but he was irrational and young. He was an idiot. Now that she knew of her feelings towards him and her memories had been opened to her it had made her all the more real, and he couldn't stand it. Not now, not after what he had just seen became of her in result of his own foolish choices.

And he could only blame himself.

He shouldn't have kissed her when she had asked him to. He knew if she hadn't been so emotional she wouldn't have came to him, knew if she hadn't been as blindsided as she was she wouldn't have asked him to touch her. He could have touched her more if he had tried, and perhaps Draco would have sent her off. He could have had her after that, not as a wife but still she would have been loved properly by him..

Then she would have been scorned and humiliated, her family completely disgusted with her. He could never allow that. Family and her image were the most important things to her.

Theodore's head spun and his chest physically hurt. The pain he held in his heart for her physically _hurt_ him and he didn't know how to handle it. He would never be able to touch her again. He had only grabbed her wrist of all places and that had set off Malfoy's sick little tricks. Her face burned into his mind, the responsiveness she had shown him as soon as he had touched her even as she was set stubbornly in avoiding him, then the clear pain and fear on her face when the magic that had been carved into her porcelain skin began to reveal itself. Her voice when she begged him to leave for her completely crushed everything left in him. He had to keep leaving her for her own good, when he was what was good for her. He was what was right. He would never hurt her like Malfoy had, and he didn't want to know what else Malfoy had done with her.

"Fuck no. Not you, not now," Theodore ground out in his fury when he arrived into his home to see the calmly blinking witch perched on one of his couches in the sitting room. "Get out."

"You seem quite distraught, Theodore. Are you alright?" Novalie asked, watching him intently. "Your father told me to wait here for you."

Theodore swallowed hard, his eyes flickering across the room in search of the one or two Aurors that normally accompanied her. They were no where to be found. She was vulnerable.

"Get out, Eld. Now is not a good time," he sneered, heading towards the stairs to go to his room.

"I would disagree wholeheartedly. I believe it's a great time judging by the emotional state you're in. Talk to me about it. Who would it hurt?"

"You if you don't shut the fuck up," he replied angrily, having a hard time not turning around and attacking the woman as he made his way up the stairs.

"You need my help, Theodore," Novalie called lightly. "You're not being looked at well by the Aurors. They are pushing me quite hard to find something wrong with you. I need to know you well to paint a solid picture to them as to why you're not dangerous to the magical community and a part of these attacks."

Theodore let out a shaky, cold laugh before he turned his heel on the step he was on and made his way back down to the girl, leaning over her and bracing his hand on the back of the couch behind her.

"Is that why you're alone here? Hoping to bait me into hurting you? Is that why you explained to me who your family was? Because of who they are targeting?" He asked, smiling in his fury. "Are they going to leave me alone with the mudblood as well?" The mudblood who had broken his childhood friend and blew out the fire in her.

"I'm not baiting you into anything," she replied, leaning back against the couch and looking up at him without completely pulling as far away from him as she could, as she _should._ "Is that what you want in this moment? To hurt me?"

"Mmm. Prison may be worth silencing your patronizing," he said darkly, leaning close to her to as he reached for his wand.

"You don't truly wish to go to Azkaban over harming me in your displaced anger, Theodore. Will you sit down?"

The name of the prison sunk into his ears and made the threat real to him in that moment, causing him to jerk back and move a few steps from her. He didn't want to go to prison. He knew what it did to people, how his father had been when he had returned from it. He felt the opposing couch against the back of his legs as he moved back from her, allowing himself to sit down on it stoically.

"So you're accepting my help?"

* * *

"Who is that redhead? The one who never fails to give me nasty looks," Daphne said slowly, watching Adrian pull his night pants on after his shower, raking her eyes over his chest.

"Redhead who gives you nasty looks.. Hmm.. Let me think. Yeah, I don't know who you're talking about. Do you know how many bitches are at these parties?"

"Yes you do," Daphne insisted. "She definitely seems to think she has some claim on you. I've seen her look at you as if you're hers. Which is just embarrassing on her part, as I'm the woman with your name."

She shouldn't be jealous of some whore of a woman making eyes at what belonged to her, but she didn't know Adrian very well at all besides the man he presented to her, and who knew how accurate that man was in comparison to his true self. As far as his past went it was mostly a mystery. She knew he spent most of his time partying and traveling. She knew he participated in taking addictive potions that parents warned their children away from taking when they were young, and she also knew he took muggle drugs. She had noticed that he was unable to sit still for very long, which was a contrast to what she was used to in most of the men she had grown up around, and whenever he became exceptionally antsy he would nurse his addiction. She wasn't sure how to feel about this, but she didn't think she liked it. It wasn't something she was willing to attempt to object to, as it wasn't her place and she had little to complain about how he treated her so far in their marriage.

"A lot of women are jealous, dove," Adrian replied, grinning. "You came out of no where and stole me from them. Don't pretend that the concept of jealous women is foreign to you, fake smiles absent or not."

"Well who is she," Daphne pressed. "Have you slept with her?"

"Why do you care about these girls, love? Are you jealous? Who wears the ring exactly? Which one of them is my wife?"

"I'm not jealous," she replied, glaring at him. "You're mine. I just wonder what kind of women you've been with. She's very pretty, that's all, and I'm sure she knows you better than I do."

"You're very pretty," he told her, rolling his eyes. "And yeah, I'm sure whoever your talking about does know me better to an extent if it's actually someone relevant that you're referring to. I grew up around these women more so than your type."

"You say I'm pretty, but I don't have what they have. All of these women are.. Sexually confident. I'm not like that. I'm not like them. It's a wonder that I've been told that I hold myself too sensually when women like them are accepted."

"I left home so much because I was bored of them, so take that as an indicator that I don't give a fuck that you're not like them. On top of that, we all act more confident than we are, no matter the way we show our false confidence. Most of these girls are just as insecure as you, you just haven't learned to read them yet. I imagine if one of them married one of your dull men, they'd be just as put out. At least you know who doesn't like you here."

"Well if you got bored with them then surely you'll get bored of me," she said softly, feeling her chest tighten. She didn't want him to cheat on her, she really didn't. She never thought she'd care whether or not her husband cheated, but that was suddenly always on her mind now, especially every time they had a party to attend where all of those beautiful women that rubbed up against him were, those beautiful women who fit much better to his name than she did. She came into this marriage seeing it as a downgrade, but she was feeling more and more that she was the downgrade.

"What's up with you? I don't know what I'm supposed to say to you to convince you that you're fine here and that I'm happy with your efforts. Fuck what those girls think. They're irrelevant."

"I just.. Care about your opinion the more we are together.." She admitted quietly, looking down at her hands as she twisted them in her lap.

"Oh, so you are starting to fancy me? Is that what you're saying? How adorable. Wow. My own wife actually _likes_ me. I'll have to argue though and say that you don't actually give a shit about my opinion seeing as you are focusing on these random people other than what I have to say about you. Not to mention what my parents have to say about you, and they're just as fine with you as I am."

"Adrian," she said, her voice small. "I just don't want there to be other women.. I know it's normal for men to have mistresses.. But I just want you to be mine in the same way that I'm yours." Her breath caught in her throat at her words in anticipation for his response. His whole world was sex and losing himself in mind altering substances. She felt foolish for confessing such feelings, for requesting that outright. He probably already had been with other women. She didn't know where he went when he left.. He could be very well out fucking a different woman every other day before joining Daphne in the bed they shared, the other woman's filth still covering her husband's body including the most intimate parts of him.

"I thought me making a big deal out of my dick dying before we got married was telling in that I don't plan on fucking other women," he told her, squinting at her face before walking over to her to grab her hand and pull her up to stand.

"You can't possibly mean that. I haven't even slept with you yet. You may not be the most horrible person, but you aren't going to make me believe that you're this noble and sweet man," she replied, focusing on the feel of his hand on hers, realizing how safe he made her feel.

Something had to be wrong with him. There was always something wrong with men, at least their men.

"I'm not trying to make you believe that, I'm trying to make you believe that I'm trying. I don't want you to be miserable, and believe it or not I actually am becoming fond of you, as bitchy and difficult as you can be."

"I don't believe it. You're with women all of the time, you travel to meet women. I know you make every girl feel like how you're trying to make me feel. You're a _player._ You can't possibly expect me to believe that I'm somehow _special_ in comparison to any other girl," Daphne scoffed, pulling her hand away from his reluctantly.

"And why not? Why is this idea of being special seem outlandish to you?"

"Because I'm not!" She exclaimed, stepping away from him slightly and staring at his chest instead of his eyes. "I'm not. I'm just like every other blonde, rich pure-blood girl who disappointed her parents and whines about not being the favored child. I'm not good at acting as my parents wish me too, and I'm not good at acting as your people wish me to."

Adrian narrowed his eyes, irritation filling them and he shook his head as he grew more aggravated with her. "Can't you just accept what I'm trying to do? You're making this so much harder than it needs to be. The more you try to convince me that my efforts are false, the less I want to try. Do you not want me to try? Do you want me to leave you alone and treat you as if you're nothing but a trophy to keep up appearances?"

"Keep up appearances? I can't even do that properly!"

"You're so exhausting," he growled and her eyes flicked up to his at his tone, becoming defensive and nervous at the same time, nervous she was pushing him too much.

"And you're treating me like a fool!" She almost spat. "I'm just trying to be realistic. I don't want to trust you and then feel like an idiot later when I catch you fucking one of those whores in this bed. Maybe more than one at once, since that idea seems to suit you quite well."

He sneered at her and she nearly winced at the sight, crossing her arm over her chest to grasp onto the other as she looked away again.

"It's sweet how little you pay attention to my words, treacle. I won't be fucking anyone in _our_ bed other than _your_ stubborn, insecure arse. You at least _pretended_ to be confident at first. What is this 'woe is me' act now?" He demanded. "Would you mind looking at me when I'm speaking to you? It's pretty rude to be focusing elsewhere when someone, especially your husband, is speaking to you."

"Because I actually want you!" She hissed, glaring at him. "I want to have this relationship you talk about. I want to actually be happy with you. I'm scared of not being enough because I don't know why I would be. I'm just telling you how I feel and I'm trying to be realistic, Pucey. I'm sorry if me expressing my insecurities is unattractive to you as you're used to those sluts in their skin tight-"

"Stop talking about them," he told her, cutting her off in exasperation. "For fuck's sake, you're gorgeous, _Pucey_. Believe me, and stop the comparisons. You're the only one between the two of us making them."

Daphne watched him quietly before looking down at her body, wondering how he expected her not to compare herself to those other women when they had so much on her in his world.

"Now when you look at yourself all I want you to think is 'Damn. Adrian is right. I'm sexy as shit.'," Adrian said, running his hand down her arm as he looked down her body as well. "That's what you're thinking right?"

Daphne looked up at him, saying nothing.

"Oh good. You stopped arguing. That's a start. See, I thought you were taught not to argue with me. Thought I was going to have to-" Adrian smacked the back of his hand down against his other palm loudly. "Assert my dominance."

Daphne looked down at his hands before looking up at him dully. "I don't think you'd hit me, Adrian."

"I don't know. I might get tired of your stubborn head and have to slap some sense into it," he said warningly before smirking. "Nah, you're right. I wouldn't hit you. Well, maybe if you want to bend over my knee.."

Daphne grimaced and spun away from him, trying to find something to busy herself with to end this conversation. He spun her back around, pulling her all the way against him.

"I mean it. I want you to stop looking at yourself with that disapproving eye. It even makes _me_ feel insecure when you give yourself those looks."

"It's not that simple, Adrian. I have to keep myself in check."

He made a long shushing noise as he grimaced at her. "Do me a favor and just shut up for a bit," he said, shaking his head as he dropped to his knees at her feet, resting his hand around her leg and holding onto it firmly when she tried to step away. She froze when he began to kiss the inside of her thigh, his lips slow and gentle on her skin.

"Adrian," she began, swaying slightly when his mouth moved higher up her thigh, staring as he pulled out his wand before he murmured against her flesh. Every piece of fabric that had covered her skin disintegrated, disappearing all at once and she tensed up in shock, staring wildly at her bare skin as she was horribly exposed while his face was far too close to such a private part of her. "Adrian!" She protested, fighting to regain her balance as she attempted to close her legs with the man kneeling between them.

"You've already said my name twice and nothing has happened yet, love," he teased, his warm breath fanning against her skin, raising goosebumps from it. She shivered and he chuckled in response, placing an open mouthed kiss over the bumps he had caused. "Keep it on your pretty lips though. You won't remember how to say anything else."

Daphne scowled at his cockiness, preparing to argue when he pushed her legs further apart and placed his mouth at the now spread center of her, running a flat lick up to the most sensitive piece of her. She choked on the gasp that left her mouth, completely unready for such a bold and unfamiliar move. She grabbed onto his hair to steady herself, feeling his hands slide up the back of her thighs to push her more firmly against his mouth as his tongue moved relentlessly against the source of her quick building pleasure, occasionally dipping down to taste her deeper where she was increasingly growing hotter and more slick as the moments passed. She wasn't sure what to do with herself as her body began to quake and she tried to hold back the shuddering cries and whimpers that were escaping her lips. She felt as if she may fall as she was unable to focus on her balance, though she knew he was holding onto her, his firm hands massaging against her arse now. She squeezed her fists in his hair, pulling it into her fingers tighter and her ears faintly picked up a growl from him in response, feeling it more than hearing it.

He was a bastard for not allowing her to be laying down for this.

When her moans grew louder and her hips began to shamelessly rock against his face against her will to be still his tongue only moved faster, dipping deeper. He didn't stop until she was well through the very peak of her pleasure, his name indeed falling from her tongue more than once until she was attempting to catch her breath and her thighs were trembling as the rolls of her pleasure faded. He pushed her back on the bed carelessly by her hips and she fell back against it, yelping in surprise. She shoved herself back to adjust herself so she was on the bed probably, glaring half-heartedly at him when crawled over her.

He looked over her body slowly, sitting back a bit to appreciate it as he took his time examining her, his eyes pausing over random areas. The look in his eyes was something newer from him, something primal. The look of pure desire on his face melted any nerves or embarrassment she was feeling from the sexual intimacy they had just shared and she felt her body relax against the bed, the hum of the aftereffects of her climax still warming through her. He trailed his finger over her breast, lightly grazing over her nipple as his eyes followed the path his finger made, admiring her. She watched his eyes with interest, feeling affection pour through her as she suddenly believed his words when he had told her that he found her beautiful. She had been told she was beautiful many times by various people, but it was different to actually believe it, and the way he was looking at her now made her feel like she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

"Why do you still have clothes on?" She asked him, her voice coming out more curious than bold or sensual.

"I wasn't thinking about me, love," he told her, brushing her hair out of her face before cupping her cheek. "But if that's what you'd prefer then I definitely won't protest. I'd love nothing more than to have you."

She rolled her eyes, nodding impatiently. "Well hurry so I can carry out my duty as your wife," she half breathed, still not quite up for casual banter.

"So you're deciding to be my wife now? What helped you with that decision?"

"Adrian. Please shut up and get on with it."

He smirked and shifted his body to comply, removing his clothes from the lower half of him as Daphne watched, strangely not feeling shy enough to look away. _He_ was certainly beautiful with his stunning physique and the defined curves of flesh against his muscles, the trail of hair leading to his groin catching her eye. She still didn't look away when he was fully nude, eyeing the length of him with interest and growing lust. He moved back over her to kiss her, fully pressing all of his body against hers, all of their naked skin touching and brushing against each other.

Oh yes, that felt right. She wasn't sure if anything had felt more _right_ than how her husband felt on top of her just then, his warm skin rubbing against hers and his hot mouth kissing her with an impatient passion. She had made him wait quite a while, she realized. Much longer than she should have or any other man would have put up with waiting for. She didn't realize it as much as she would have had he been overly pushy about it, which he hadn't been at all. Why was he so good?

What was the catch?

Daphne ran her hands down his arms when he raised himself up on them, feeling herself smirk slightly at the thought of this fine man being _her_ husband. It didn't matter the social differences between pure-bloods, nearly every woman knew how desirable Adrian Pucey was. Well, they could certainly look at him couldn't they? She hoped some of those stupid whores that were so openly bitter about their marriage had _cried_ when they learned Daphne had taken Adrian away from them.

He turned them over, sitting her in his lap as he sat up slightly against the pillows. She only blushed a bit when she felt the thick length of him against her thigh and she grabbed his face in her hands to kiss him hard as his hands roamed up her back. She adjusted herself above him, waiting for him to poise himself properly so they could get on with what they both wanted. When he didn't cooperate she reached down his chest to pinch the flesh there irritably as he knew full well what he was meant to do. His lips broke from hers despite how she tried to follow them when he pulled away and he squinted at her. "What kind of sex are you aiming for, dove? That hurt. There are better ways to incorporate pain into sex if that's what you want, but-"

"Stop," she groaned, clapping the hand that had been on his face over his mouth. "Stop talking. You ruin my mood when you speak."

Humor touched his eyes and he took her hand from his mouth, placing it back against his face where it had rested previously. "You're lying. You eat up every word I say."

Unfortunately, she feared that he was correct.

He moved and angled himself beneath her, grabbing her hips with one hand to push her down against the tip of him, purposely brushing against her clitoris. She sighed and closed her eyes, sinking down on him slowly. She was certainly not used to this feeling and though she wasn't a virgin she still felt slightly uncomfortable at the less than familiar intrusion. She could feel his eyes on her face as her eyes were closed and she leaned her face forward, sliding her cheek against his gently. The mood in the room seemed to change at that and his arms came around her to embrace her against him as he began to move with her, pushing them into a steady rhythm. Though she was on top and he allowed her that control, he still was doing most of the work and she simply followed his lead, comfortably being held so close to him as the slow burning of pleasure began to return to her.

She faintly felt the pull of her magic as it finally was able to settle in with his as they completed their marriage. She wondered how long they would have been able to put it off before there was some repercussions. The small groan that Adrian breathed beneath her sent a triumphant shock through her and she nuzzled her face into the side of his neck, thrilled at the sound as she placed kisses there. He responded to her show of affection by forcing the pace of their sex faster and she bit into the skin beneath her lips as a guttural sound came from her throat and she moved her hands down his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin as she felt herself being pushed to the edge once more. She began to coo at him eagerly, vocalizing his name as well as short pleadings for him to give her more, begging him for more. Her lips dragged up near his ear as she desperately kissed his warm skin in approval until she had to press her mouth hard against it to muffle her final cries, regretting her decision to be so close to his ear. He didn't seem to mind as she heard more delicious sounds from him, though much less vocal than her own, and she felt his body tremble beneath hers.

The room was still for a very small moment before he flipped them, nearly slamming her on her back beneath him as he kissed her feverishly as if he were drinking her in and his hands moved everywhere on her body to stroke and caress her in appreciation. She took his enthusiastic reaction as him telling her "good job" and she smiled, breaking their passionate kiss in a way as an odd giddiness fell over her.

She felt at home.


	44. Chapter 44

"I'm glad you're actually meeting me," Ophelia murmured when she saw Edric arrive in front of her, the courage she had built up to confront him properly about everything dissolving a bit at the sight of him. No, she had to be firm. He was just a man for God's sake, a man that hardly seemed to care for her well-being.

"I told you that I would, did I not? I had to reward you for not making any sort of scene at the Ministry ball," he told her lightly, tilting his head just slightly as his eyes scanned the muggle park she had directed him to through the couple of letters they had exchanged.

"Reward me," she repeated flatly. "I'm not your animal for you to train, Greengrass."

"You're referring to me by my surname now?" He asked her, his eyebrow raising slightly. "I would think that we were beyond that after our long partnership."

"I'm trying to be strong so I can confront you properly," she mumbled honestly, fighting a childish huff.

 _Childish._ He made her act childish, and she was tired of it.

"I see," he replied, his eyes lingering on some muggle children in the distance.

"I want to know what's happening between us, Edric. I'm a big girl. Well, I suppose I haven't been acting like it lately, but I can handle honesty. I just don't want to play any games. Obviously I have feelings for you, as you make me act like a pathetic schoolgirl around you. We had sex, and you seem to want to move on from it, but then you make comments that confuse me. It's not fair, and I just want it to be clear on what's going on."

"Having sex with you was a mistake," he said simply, indifferently. "And have you considered that you have been reading too much into these 'comments' and they are simply a part of my usual personality?"

"Are you telling me that you expect me to believe-" _That's not what he said_. Ophelia took a breath as she cut herself off, remembering his cute little habit of implying things and then acting as if the implications meant nothing. "No, I haven't considered it because I know you and I've noticed the changes in the way you speak to me."

"You _know_ me, now do you?" He asked her, a mocking amusement in his tone.

"I know your mannerisms. I know bits about you. I know you're usually very honest with me.. I think.. Though you do like to be vague sometimes and you're occasionally infuriating about it, but I know you treat me differently from when we first came into acquaintance. You're also more cruel now after what happened."

"You make me angry," he said, his voice still indifferent.

"I haven't done anything!" She cried in frustration. "You're acting as if _I_ initiated sex with _you_ or that _I_ got between _your_ relationship out of jealousy."

"I never said that you did anything. I said you that you make me angry. I never faulted you for it."

"So you admit that you have some sort of infatuation with me, and don't give me your 'that's not what I said' line. I'm growing tired of that one," she told him firmly, watching his eyes which were still looking at their surroundings instead of her.

"I'm not admitting to anything," he replied, one corner of his mouth fighting to raise at her comment.

"You said having sex with me was a mistake," she said slowly, biting her lip. "Which means that you didn't use me just so you could use me as some 'I had sex with a muggle-born' trophy. Which means you did want me against your better judgement."

He snorted loudly, looking offended at her words. "Trophy? No pure-bloods would view you as a trophy. However, if you'd like to be treated shamelessly as a _toy_ and be truly degraded in that way I'd recommend going to Slytherins like Burgess Rookwood or Coleman Macnair. Perhaps you could get away with Corwin Higgs, but I believe the lowest they go is usually half-bloods. Though if you find how I treat you as cruel, I'd advise against Rookwood and Macnair."

"I don't like when you talk about me as if I'm less than or 'low', Edric," she said quietly. "It doesn't make me feel good. I care about your opinion, and though I'm delusional for that, I wish you wouldn't talk like that unless you mean it. If you mean it and truly believe that, then tell me. I do enjoy being your friend-"

"Friend," he scoffed.

"Please don't interrupt me," she told him levelly. "I do enjoy being your friend, well before you became so _rude_ , but I also respect myself too much to continue to be made to feel unworthy of your presence."

"You feel unworthy yet you still requested it," he countered, meeting her eyes.

"Edric," she groaned, covering her forehead with one hand as she closed her eyes to sigh before opening them to look at him again. "Please stop being difficult. _Please._ You're hurting my feelings."

Edric frowned at that, catching her off guard with that reaction as he searched her eyes, seeming to catch himself off guard as well.

"I don't believe that."

"That you're hurting my feelings?"

"That you're less than me," he said slowly, his eyes becoming unfocused as if he was surprised at himself for speaking the words.  
"Are you sure?"

Edric's jaw tensed as he stared through her, seeming to be fighting through his own head. "I wish I wasn't."

"Well, that's not very nice," she mumbled, shaking her head at herself.

Was it worth it? Trying to have some type of relationship with this man? She missed how they were before things became complicated, before they shifted. She had called him honest, but perhaps it was the _false_ him she missed. Either way, she did miss their talks as partners. They didn't always talk much during class, but when they did she enjoy them and him. He was calming. At the same time he was here fighting himself on whether or not he saw her as beneath him and even seemed reluctant to admit that he didn't. She hated herself for feeling warmed at his denial towards looking down at her, she hated herself for giving him credit for being a decent human being in the smallest sense of the word.

But that was how he was raised, and surely he deserved credit for seeing past that, didn't he?

"What do you want from me, Ophelia?" He sighed in defeat, running a hand through his hair.

She blinked at the sight, shocked at seeing him come slightly undone. He was always so sure of himself, so collected. His voice and his face seemed vulnerable now, flustered.

"What do _you_ want from _me_? I mean, I wasn't expecting marriage after we had sex, and I won't say that I don't regret it completely, but I also knew you wouldn't profess your love to me afterwards. It's not as though I was necessarily saving myself for marriage, and I know you were most likely to be a be better experience than whoever else I would have lost it to.." She trailed off. She was babbling now, not really knowing where she was going with this. She didn't know what she wanted from him, just as he seemed to not know what he wanted from her.

"I don't know," he told her clearly, raising his eyebrows. Again, it seemed as if he was also speaking to himself.

He jumped and grimaced when a pair of muggle children ran past him, squealing as they played tag. She smiled sadly, not sure if he was making the face of distaste at the fact that the children were muggles or if it was over the noise the children made.

"Do you want to come to my house? My mum isn't home. There won't be little kids there."

"Your house?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Ophelia nodded, biting her lip. She could truly be alone with him without the tenseness of being in public or at school. "Unless you'd rather me go to yours.." She suggested, attempting humor.

He smirked, offering an arm to her. "Alright."

Ophelia stared at him in confusion. "What?"

"My house."

"You.. No.." She said slowly, remembering his intimidating family and how his father had interacted with Charlotte. She definitely was not prepared to go to such a home containing such people where she would be unprotected and there would be no one around for them to keep their image up for.  
"Then why offer?"

"Would you have actually brought me?"

"No," he chuckled. "Take me to your home then."

Ophelia faltered slightly at his agreement, picturing her house then which would most likely seem like a pathetic little shack to him. "Will you explain to me what your father did to Charlotte first?"

"What does that have to do with me going home with you?"

"Nothing, but I'm stalling," she admitted.

"My father is a skilled Legilimens," he told her, not offering anything further.  
"Care to elaborate?" She pushed, standing from the bench she had been sitting on as she pressed the man.

"Elaborate on what? I wasn't the one in her head, love. But talented Legilimens can pull forth both memories and the pain that one experienced during those memories, both physical and mental. I assume that's what he was doing, as what was it he said? Something about our own demons? Do try to pay attention."

"That's awfully dark, as well as invasive," Ophelia said slowly, recalling what she had learned about Legilimency. "Can you do that?"

Edric frowned indifferently. "Not nearly as well, but I prefer not to."

"Because it's awfully dark?"

"Because it's invasive."

"How considerate," she mumbled, eyeing him suspiciously. "You haven't been in my head have you?"

"I don't need to be in your head to know what you're thinking," he told her, looking amused with her questions in a way that made her feel silly.

"So does this mean we can be friends again?"

"I don't want to be your friend, Ophelia. I believe I made that clear when I fucked you into the ground."

Ophelia flushed and swallowed, surprised at his vulgarity. "Well," she said slowly. " _I_ want to be your friend."

"No you don't, or you would not have _enjoyed_ being fu-"

"Okay, enough please!" She cut him off, waving her hands. "I prefer when you're polite! So what do you want then? If you are being difficult about being my friend?"

"Don't ask to label this. I will only disappoint you. We cannot be caught together being anything beyond class partners, and after we finish Hogwarts there isn't much I can do with you after that," he told her, watching her eyes seriously. "I'm not going to pretend like we can be anything, Ophelia, but if you do insist on spending time with me aside from working on assignments and discussing school work then I will be willing."

Ophelia was quiet for a while, thinking this over. She knew it wasn't a good idea. If she was already this attached to him when they had only had time together when they worked on their classwork, she should imagine how attached to him she would become should she actually have some sort of secret _relationship_ with him, not to mention what her mother would think of her to know she agreed to meet some uppity, better-than-everyone rich boy in secret because he was too ashamed to meet with her in public.

But she wasn't her mother, and she knew it wasn't that simple for him.

"Okay.. Okay," she sighed. "But please treat me with respect, and I don't want to just be having sex with you."

"Who said anything about sex?"

" _You_ did." She scowled at him, crossing her arms. "I brought up friendship. You brought up sex."

"I suppose you're right," he allowed. "Though that is not what I'm after."

"Good. Follow me then."

Surprisingly, he had met with her a few more times during the last bit of their break and they had not spent their time shagging. He had avoided looking too much at the more obviously muggle items in her home, pretending as if they didn't exist really, and had respectfully sat in the chair in her bedroom. He simply _talked_ with her, revealing more about him than he ever had. He was much more relaxed while in a safer setting where they could be alone, and he was not nearly as intimidating. Her cliche schoolgirl infatuation with the bad boy Slytherin was turning into something else, something deeper in only a few meetings with him.

Yes, becoming closer with him outside of their class had been an entirely horrific idea.

On the final day he had agreed to meet with her before their break ended he had been watching her curiously for a while as she looked out her window at the snow falling outside when he called her over to him.

"What?" She asked him, frowning at him curiously.

"Come here," he told her, motioning.

"Please?" She replied, tilting her head expectantly.

Edric rolled his eyes before shaking his head slowly. "Please come here," he said dully, muttering some words under his breath further, words she couldn't quite catch.

She smirked and he snorted at her smug expression, laughing lightly. A small thrill ran through her spine at the sound as she walked over to him. He was becoming so much more human around her, himself. His real self. He took her hand gently, pulling her down into his lap as he sat in the chair against his welcoming chest, pulling her legs up by her knees to cross over his. She didn't want to waste time being shy about this, so instead she buried her face into his neck, sliding her hands up his chest affectionately. He had not touched her much during the few times they had met, but when he had they were sweet such as this. He hadn't tried to sleep with her or touch her inappropriately, and she was pleased that he wasn't treating her as his dirty little shag.

His breath hitched and halted when she pressed her face against the skin of his neck and began to touch his chest. She didn't comment on it or pull away, she had noticed these odd little habits about him in the past, and he resumed breathing regularly when he began to gently stroke her curls. The light touches against her hair made her stomach flutter and her chest pain and she curled her fingers against his chest slightly, knowing she couldn't keep him. He would never be hers. She was only hurting herself letting herself become so close to him. Ophelia sighed, pushing the thoughts away as she convinced herself to just live in the moment. She was young, she was allowed to live in the moment wasn't she? She could make more responsible decisions later. She kissed the skin of his neck lightly, feeling him shift underneath her and she pulled back to look at him, her face right in front of his. His eyes locked with hers in the most intense way, and she had never seen his light blue eyes look so honest. She closed the distance between their faces, brushing her mouth up against his before kissing him sweetly, enjoying just this simple intimacy with him.

She broke the kiss to curl up into his lap properly, leaning her head against his shoulder in their silence, enjoying the still of the room as he resumed stroking her hair until she fell asleep against his chest.

"Char, love. Are you still getting into fights with that mudblood who snitched on you?" Corwin Higgs called to the front of the room in Potions class once the break had ended at Charlotte Blythe loudly before the professor had entered the room. Charlotte did not turn from her stiff, upright posture in her seat, ignoring him completely as well as the couple of other Slytherins who snickered at his question.

"That mudblood being me," Ophelia muttered from her seat near the boy, offended that he had the audacity to use the term so loudly in the middle of class.

Of course she should have ignored him, she immediately realized when he turned his head slowly to look at her, a slow grin crossing over his mischievous features before he dragged a hand through his dirty blonde and tousled hair. He stood from his seat, slinking over to slide right next to her in the open spot beside her, leaning in close to her.

"Is that so, pretty girl? Well, I ought to thank you for that one. It was about time the bitch was knocked off her pedestal. Tell me, how many smacks on the arse do you think she got from her daddy for that?" He asked, his tone mocking and silken as his light brown eyes flashed in his entertainment.

She should have just ignored him. Why hadn't she ignored him?

As Ophelia exited her class, she could feel Corwin on her heals as she went to turn to follow the other Ravenclaws, yipping in alarm when a hand grabbed her arm and tugged her towards a tall male body, dragging her towards the walking Slytherins with him.

God dammit.

"Don't look so put out, precious. Don't you want to be my friend?" Higgs tsked, releasing her arm as he apparently expected her to continue walking beside him on her own will.

She glanced uncomfortably at the other Slytherins around them, some ignoring her while others gave her scornful or amused looks. She wasn't sure which type of look she found more irritating.

"Don't worry, my little _muggle-born_. I won't let the mean Slytherins hurt you," he cooed before grinning towards Charlotte's back as she walked confidently in front of them. "See, I can use nice words too. Give me a pat on the back. What made you want to snitch on poor little Char, eh? Have a crush on Greengrass?" Corwin jerked his head towards Edric who was walking with his couple of friends she had seen him around, the group of them coming from a different corridor.

"He's boring, they are all _boring_ , poppet. You have me to guide you around the proper fun Slytherins now. We could make it _very_ fun for you," he purred, leaning near her face.

Ophelia jumped when a Slytherin girl appeared next to her, twirling a piece of Ophelia's hair in her finger, looking her up and down with a cruel smirk on her face. "Never kissed a _mudblood_ before. Do you think they taste as good as half-bloods, Cor?" She asked her housemate coyly.

Ophelia stopped walking in disgust, stumbling forward again quickly as she nearly caused a few dangerously harsh looking boys to knock into her in her sudden halt.

"Careful there. They're not as nice to _muggle-borns_ as we are." Corwin grinned at her, winking.

Ophelia was distracted as the witch who had made comments about kissing her raised a small vial of a peculiar looking potion to her lips, tipping it back quickly before slipping the vial back inside her robes, waggling her eyebrows at Ophelia when she caught her staring.

"Was that..?" Ophelia asked dubiously, shocked the girl had done such a thing at school of all places.

She knew the Wizarding World had their potion equivalent to muggle drugs, and she had seen descriptions of it in books, but never had she witnessed someone actually _take_ one.

Ophelia jumped when a prefect called angrily for them to stop, walking over to the three of them looking accusing, demanding what the girl had just put in her mouth. The prefect looked to Ophelia, and she was assuming it was because he trusted the Ravenclaw over the two Slytherins. Ophelia felt a flutter of fear when she caught Corwin's threatening gaze on her, his face suddenly dark and full of warning as she was put on the spot.

"I.. She was feeling ill so I gave her something. I've been reading up on potions for illness," Ophelia explained, hoping her terrible lying skills would not be too obvious to the Hufflepuff prefect.

"Hmm. Next time go to the hospital wing," he grumbled irritably, seeming to accept that answer before moving on.

"Good girl." Corwin's purr was even deeper than before. "We don't snitch on our friends, now do we?"

"I can't believe you're getting so close to it, Higgs," a younger boy commented as he passed them, sneering at Ophelia in disgust.

"Be nice! I'm sure my muggle-born has bathed. You've bathed, haven't you, beautiful? Yes, it's just their _blood_ that's filthy. I'm sure I'll be fine if her skin slips against mine just a bit," Corwin said, caressing the side of her face as she stared at his hand in bewilderment, amused at the boy when he picked up the pace of his steps in disgust.

"Tell me, what did exactly did Char do to get those grades she wanted? She suck the professor's knob?" Corwin inquired before she could say anything to defend herself at the way she was being spoken about, raising his eyebrows at her innocently.

She held her tongue when she went to snap at him, figuring getting into a fight with the boy _trying_ to get a reaction out of her in the middle of all these Slytherins was not a wise decision.

Charlotte stopped to whirl around, glaring at the offending wizard angrily. "I did _no_ such thing. How _dare_ you accuse me of such a lowly act, Higgs. You know full well I would never."

Corwin blinked, looking between Charlotte and Ophelia. "Now, now, Princess. I believe I was asking my little muggle-born what the truth was. She will settle this, won't you?" He asked, looking down at Ophelia expectantly.

Oh no, no no..

She either had to further the animosity between her and Charlotte Blythe, or potentially make an enemy out of this overpowering, oddly intimidating male in his mocking kindness.

"Well I certainly saw Charlotte's mouth places much lower than it should ever be on a professor.." She lied, wincing slightly at her words, feeling guilty even though the witch had been so cruel to her.

"Aha! Oh, Princess, you bad girl. How could you? What would daddy say? What _did_ daddy say?" Corwin asked Charlotte, his eyes widening in his delight.

Charlotte's face reddened with anger and humiliation. "I will not have a _mudblood_ incriminate me for something I didn't do," she hissed angrily, speeding up her own page to get away from them just as the other boy had.

"She already did, Char! But don't worry, one man's loss is another man's gain," he said loudly, smirking when she turned to look at him again, her face pale.

"What are you talking about, Higgs."

"I think you know what I'm implying, Princess. Don't play stupid. Well, you _did_ have to blow a professor to get a decent grade I suppose.."

Charlotte looked at him wildly before shaking her head slowly. "You're a liar," she said, her voice thick with anger and fear.

"Are you going to cry? I just _hope_ you cry! Cry on our wedding night too. It just gives me the best pleasure to see your uppity arse crumble. Oi!"

Ophelia heard Corwin break off as she slipped from his side to escape down the upcoming hallway, squeezing her eyes shut in annoyance when she heard his footsteps behind her before he looped his arm around her shoulders, pressing her into his side.

"Leaving so soon, pet? What's the matter? Don't like being my friend? Scared of Char? I wouldn't let my fiancé hurt my _friend_ of all people. Don't you trust me?"

"No," she said firmly, trying to pull away from his embrace, thankful to be away from the rest of the Slytherins. "Please stop being so touchy."

He stopped their walking, feigning hurt in his eyes as he looked down at her. "You _don't_? Careful, I might not want to be your friend after you say such mean things to me. I trust you. You've earned my trust. I bet I'm your first Slytherin friend. Well, Char seems to be rather fond of you, so maybe not. Ever kissed one before, pretty? Ever _fucked_ one?" He asked, stepping closer to her daringly and she resisted her urge to step back, knowing full well he was just taunting her. There was nothing he could do to her at school, and if she remembered correctly Edric _had_ said he only touched half-bloods.

However, she felt her face respond to his question in a telling way and she looked away from him, mumbling about needing to get back to her Common Room.

"Wait? _Have_ you?" He asked, moving his face in front of hers so she was forced to look at him. "Who? Oh, I bet it was your little crush Greengrass, and that's why you fucked his.. Aha. Seriously? I'm right? I was only _joking_."

"No!" She insisted forcefully, shaking her head hard, cursing herself for ducking her head like an _idiot_ when he had mentioned his name. "I did not. Do you understand, Higgs? I didn't. Don't start any rumors that aren't true. How old are you? Twelve?"

"So testy," he scolded. "I won't snitch on your boyfriend, poppet. I told you to trust me!"

"He's not! There's nothing to trust you about because it isn't true!" She exclaimed, terrified now. Terrified of how Edric would react, wondering if Corwin's speculating could really do anything to his reputation. She didn't know, she didn't know how any of this bullshit worked.

"Alright," he sighed dramatically, pulling the camera that had been hanging around his neck off. "Obviously you don't believe me."

He held the camera out with one hand, pointing it at them before he grabbed the back of her hair firmly to kiss her, catching her completely off guard as her lips were parted, just as his were, making the unwanted kiss all the more inappropriate as she felt his tongue touch her lower lip as the camera flashed and she shoved away from him. She stared at him incredulously, horrified and angry at this completely invasive man.

"What is _wrong_ with you?!" She demanded, wiping her mouth. He wasn't a bad kisser, but she wasn't about to comment on that observation out loud.

"Nothing!" He chirped, hoisting the camera back around his neck. "Nothing wrong with me at all, and don't wipe my kiss away like a little bitch. Now, I'll give you the picture later when I have it. Then you'll have something over me should I betray your trust. Hand the picture over to one of the pure-blood papers if you will. Goodnight, pet."

Ophelia fidgeted next to Edric in class that night, unsure of whether to tell him about Corwin or not. She didn't want him to get angry with her and make him feel as if she would get him caught, but she didn't know if not telling him would result in something worse.

"When I told you about Higgs I was not meaning for you to take me seriously, love," he told her lightly when they arrived at their regular spot outside. "Are you going to approach Rookwood and Macnair next? Are you trying to get a rise out of me publicly?"

No, she definitely shouldn't tell him.

* * *

Ophelia in present day was adjusting photos on her and her husband's walls when the knock on the door came and she immediately went to open it to find Adrian Pucey there at her front door, smiling charmingly at her.

"May I come in, Mrs. Greengrass?" He asked sweetly, raising his dark eyebrows at her.

She pursed her lips for a moment before opening the door wider, allowing the handsome wizard to enter her home.

"Is your husband around?"

"Edric!" She called loudly, causing Adrian to lean away from her and grimace.

"Shit, love. Be careful of my ear, yeah?"

"Sorry," she muttered, leading him into the living room and motioning to the couch. He took it upon himself to make himself perfectly at home, dropping himself onto the couch comfortably while kicking his legs up.

Edric came in, look between Ophelia and Adrian calmly. "Pucey. If you would remove your feet from my furniture that would be lovely."

"Now, brother. Don't be rude when I'm here to update you on all things your family. My friend here is never so rude to me. I'd have been here sooner but your sister is a lot of work, let me tell you. Plus, I only have shitty news to tell you, and I don't really like bringing people down to be honest."

"Don't call her your friend," Edric said smoothly. "She has nothing to offer you, so there is no need."

"What are you talking about when you say I have nothing to offer him?" Ophelia demanded, crossing her arms. "You act as though I'm useless. I can be a good friend."

"Claiming someone as a friend is their cute way of claiming allyship, love. It has nothing to do with your capabilities of being a good friend. It means something different to them entirely."

"Is that what Corwin Higgs proposed to me in our seventh year?" She asked, feeling slightly smug at the thought of _two_ arrogant pure-bloods apart from her husband considering her useful.

"What?" Adrian asked, sitting up in offense. "Higgs claimed you as a friend? Oh no. Never mind. I take back my notions of friendship. You've been tarnished."

"When did Higgs do anything like that, Ophelia? When were you around him so much?"

"Well that day right after winter break in seventh year. In the hallways when he kissed me-"

"Excuse me," Edric cut her off flatly. "Come again?"

"Oooh," Adrian came childishly. "Apparently the muggle-born has made her away the established pure-blood list more than we thought."

"Well, Edric. Don't look at me like that. I couldn't tell you because it was a secret-"

" _Excuse me_?" Edric repeated, sneering the words at her as his face twisted in disgust.

Adrian laughed loudly, standing from the couch. "You can't be mad at her for keeping a secret, Greengrass. She has to earn the name you've given her somehow, no? Should I come back another time? You're not going to hit her, are you?"

"Of course I'm not going to hit her," Edric snapped at him, his eyes glowing with anger.

"It was years ago, Edric," Ophelia told him, glaring at him. "He kissed me and took a photo of it so I'd have something over him because he found out about the two of us - don't say excuse me again! I mean it! I didn't tell you because I thought you would be mad."

"I'm mad," Edric countered, his eyes narrowing just slightly.

"Why! It's irrelevant that he knew now! You've already.." She trailed off as she decided not to finish her words, feeling guilty now.

"Speaking of," Adrian interjected. "Back to why I'm here. I wanted to tell you about what's going on with your family. Are you not interested, Greengrass?"

* * *

"The only thing you know how to do is tattle," snarled a very young Astoria, shoving her older sister hard and causing her to topple down on the grass, a blonde boy looking on beside her.

"I'm sorry, cousin Freya," the young boy began to rush out to the woman that had caught them, his voice heavily accented. His face was flushed along with the guilty expression that was plastered onto it. "We weren't trying to get into trouble." The boy's eyes widened in fear as an older man walked over to him, his stream of apologies switching from English to German, addressing the man as his grandfather.

"My daughter continues to be a horrible influence on your grandson it seems, Uncle," Freya said stiffly, yanking Astoria back and away from her sister by her shoulder.

The man, blonde and quite large, began to reply to her in German. Freya's mouth set into a hard line as she listened, waiting for him to finish.

"You know I prefer English, Uncle."

Astoria yanked viciously away from her mother, shoving her hands away. "Let me go!" She demanded angrily.

Freya's eyes flashed, her chest rising with her furious breath. "Have you lost your mind, Astoria?" She hissed, grabbing Astoria by one of her braids to jerk her back to her. "You think you can push me like that? Your mother?"

Astoria yelped in pain, grabbing her mother's wrist as her neck was inclined to the side by the hold on her hair.

"She's just a child, Freya," the older wizard said next to her, raising an eyebrow. "I don't remember your mother ever being so violent with you."

Freya's eyes flickered in his direction at the mention of her mother before she zeroed back in on her protesting child. "I never needed it."

The man threw back his head slightly in his deep laughter, resting a hand on his niece's shoulder, causing Freya to look up and scowl at him.

Astoria drew a small knife from her pocket, the silver of the blade engraved with her brother's name as she drew it against her braid, appearing to move to cut her braid in order to release herself. When Freya shifted, however, she ended up slicing into her mother's hand. Freya gasped in pain, dropping her daughter's hair immediately as beads of blood began to gather at the line of the cut. "Astoria Conradina-"

The woman's furious words were cut off as Aldrich Greengrass came up behind his daughter, placing a hand on the back of her neck as he plucked the knife from her hand before kneeling next to her, his face stone in its lack of emotion.

"Your temper will be your undoing, Astoria."

Draco had to stifle a short laugh in agreement as the images in the room filtered out, thinking of the glimpses of his wife's temper he had seen already. She had been a cute child, undoubtedly, but certainly a little brat at times. Not that he had any room to talk, he was well aware of how he had been as a child, and he didn't fully blame Astoria for not being fond of him. According to these memories, he had been a little prick to her as he had been to everyone. Draco stood from the couch to cover the Pensieve, heading to his bedroom as he figured she would be awake soon. He had seen his mother that morning, though he preferred not to see her in the mornings as his father was usually awake. He wasn't as bad as he once was, that was at least a positive, though he was still incredibly worried to leave his mother alone there with him, especially when they were each other's only contact outside of Draco.

Perhaps the safe house wasn't a good idea.

No, the Manor would not be safer. His home's wards were good, but it didn't change the fact of what his home once was, and he didn't want his parents there on top of the fact his father surely would not pass the Aurors little inspections of them in his madness. The only reason Draco was there was to hold onto the family home after what had happened to it during the War and appear to have some dignity in their name and property left after they had been made a mockery out of by the Dark Lord. Draco kept up his father's investments, though there wasn't too much work to that as his family didn't bother too much with keeping up on their wealth as they had well beyond what they needed to keep themselves rich for generations to come, but it was better than doing _nothing_. He had already gone for his walk along his property that morning, which was one of his most clearheaded times to be outside in actual fresh air to empty his head. He considered taking another one but decided he'd just see if Astoria was awake. He was beginning to crave her presence more and more, and that made him uncomfortable. It was hard not to feel close to a girl he was learning so much about through her past. He hadn't been angry about the incident with Nott, quite smug about it actually, but he was aware she hadn't initiated the contact. Not that time, anyway. He truly hoped Nott was still thinking about it, the miserable piece of shit.

Surprisingly, Draco found Astoria awake and playing with his puzzle box.

"You can have anything you want, we have all the money in the world, yet you want to play with _my_ things," he drawled, closing his bedroom doors as he took off his cloak that he had yet to remove from being outside.

"Didn't your mother teach you to share?" She asked, looking up at him with her annoyingly sweet eyes.

"No. I'm an only child," he told her, rolling her eyes. "I thought you were observant."

"You're right. Was that lonely? Do you wish you had siblings?"

Draco shrugged. He wasn't sure. Yes, he _was_ quite lonely at times, but he wasn't sure if a sibling would fix that, and it would have just been another loved one to end up harmed due to his father's choices.

"I've been thinking about your mother," Astoria sighed, moving on from the matter of siblings. "I'm worried about her."

"As am I, obviously."

"Can't she stay here? Wouldn't she be safer?"

"No," Draco replied, shaking his head. "My father would have to be here as well, and he's too mad to face the Aurors, and too mad to hide here without being noticed by them as well."

She frowned, crawling to the edge of the bed to take his hand. He allowed her to have it, slightly surprised as he glanced down at her holding it, her soft thumbs tracing circles into his skin.

"I just get worried. I adore your mother, and I miss talking to her. I know she had a hard time during the war.. Sometimes in the past I've felt closer to her than my own mother," she said quietly, staring down at his hand.

Draco felt his face soften at her wards, tilting her chin up with his free hand to look at her and examine her face, her face filled with sincere concern.

Of course she was using his love for his mother to weasel her way into his soft spot.

Draco kissed her head in appreciation, his lips lingering there for a moment as he considered how true her words were. Most of the girls he had the potential to marry wouldn't have felt the same, their fondness for his mother would have been only for show to earn his name. Astoria had real respect for his mother, and he knew she wasn't simply trying to manipulate him. How could he not have a tenderness for a girl who cared about his mother second to how much he did himself? Of course she earned points from him in her proper treatment of Narcissa.

Astoria smiled sadly when he pulled away, raising his hand to kiss the back of it. "It's early enough to still get away with having breakfast, don't you think?"


	45. Chapter 45

"Don't you think you're playing a rather dangerous game, little mudblood?"

Ophelia froze, her blood running cold at the words. She was just slipping out of the empty classroom, having waited minutes after Edric had left to leave herself in order to not get caught being seen leaving together. It was after hours, and the students were meant to be in bed.

Apparently someone had noticed anyway.

Ophelia slowly resumed her steps, not turning to look at the source of the dark voice. She cringed when she heard sounds of the man coming up behind her and she moved to face him before she was pushed roughly against the wall of the corridor, her shoulder blades digging sorely into the uneven grooves of the stone. She looked up at the boy, wide-eyed as she prepared to scream.

"Scream, and I'll expose your precious little Head Boy. To the teachers as well, and he'll lose his cute little school title," he murmured, his face curling into a daring and cruel smile.

She didn't know the boy by name, but she had seen him before in at least one of her classes and with the likes of Rookwood, and she knew those Slytherins were particularly horrible. They weren't like Edric and Charlotte, they weren't like Corwin Higgs either. They were nasty, the type you would imagine to grow up and become killers; the stereotypical dark wizards that everyone talked about the Slytherins becoming.

"Good choice," he crooned, tapping his finger over her lips and she jerked her head back, pressing it against the wall.

He wouldn't truly do anything to her at school, would he? Not when someone could walk by at any moment..

"Care to offer your services to another one of your betters?"

She should have left before Edric. He had insisted as much, but she had told him no in that she knew some professors near the Ravenclaw Common Room occasionally liked to linger around at the same time Edric had left. Had she had left before him like he had suggested, perhaps he could have come out in time to spot this debacle to do something about it.

Would he have done something about it?  
Yes, of course he would. He didn't care about protecting his reputation to _that_ extent that he'd allow her to be harmed or touched against her will by this boy. He cared about her more than that, she _hoped_ at least.

"No. I don't care to," she murmured, fighting a wince at the way her voice trembled.

She couldn't be _that_ weak.

"No? Why not? I'm sure Greengrass is capable of sharing his toys.." His hot breath blew over the side of her face as he leaned close to her ear. "Am I not rich enough for you, mudblood? Is he paying you for your cunt? I may not be as rich as him, but I'm sure almost everyone could afford you and your filth."

Ophelia made a small strangled sound as she was unable to answer properly, her body fully trembling now at both his disgusting words and the smothering closeness of him. She couldn't even think to move for her wand, forgetting she was a witch in that moment.

"Pathetic little thing you are. Practically a muggle, aren't you? Haven't even made a move for your wand," he purred, his hand coming to wrap around her neck, stroking her pulse with his thumb. "Why are you trying to commit suicide, little mudblood? You fear me so, look at that little heart race, yet you're openly giving yourself to a man whose family would murder you should they find out, and they _will_ find out. The only one who loses here is you. Do you want to die, little girl? What, you think because they put on pretty clothes and pretty faces that they aren't as dangerous as someone like me?"

Ophelia, reminded of her magic by him, immediately went for her wand, surprised when he stepped away from her in amusement.

"Go on then, mudblood," he told her, nodding towards her raising wand before he took out his own. "I want to show you real magic."

Before she could open her mouth over a spell, the wizard before her had beaten her to it with a spell she had never heard of, followed by a silencing charm. A spasm went through her arm and she looked down to see lumps moving beneath her skin, almost as if there were insects crawling under the surface. Her eyes widened and she dropped her wand, screaming in alarm at both the feeling and the sight of it, finding her scream silent.

"I learned that one from my parents. A rather tame spell if you ask me, but obviously it works on clueless little magic leeches like you. You see, one of the reasons you're as inferior as you are is that the only magic you know is the pathetic shit they teach at this school. The magic _I_ know, and the magic every _real_ wizard or witch knows comes from generations of knowledge, _parents_ teaching their children. Your disgusting muggle parents could never have prepared you for my small and practically harmless tricks, let alone anything worse I could do to you. One little spell, and you've already lost your wand. You _dropped_ it, you worthless bitch. I bet you expected me to duel you fairly. That's what this school teaches, doesn't it? How to fight _fair_? No one fights fair in reality, I'm glad I'm here to give you a real lesson."

Her stomach rolled and she scrambled to grab her wand, but he had already scooped it up and she looked back down at her arm wildly as she backed away from him, his spell already fading as her arm was returning back to normal.

He had taken her wand.

"I don't believe you need this to be completely honest with you," he said sweetly, backing up a few steps. "I'll relieve you of what you can't handle. Free of charge."

Both of their heads snapped to the side as a thump sounded and Ophelia's eyes followed Edric's cat as she jumped from a nearby ledge, sprinting out of sight at the sound of the approaching figure.

Ophelia's wand was plucked out of her attacker's hand magically and she whirled to see the source of the spell, disappointed to find it was not a teacher but another Slytherin.

"Sorry, Wilkes. Finders keepers," Corwin Higgs told him confidently, smirking at him without looking at Ophelia. "Teacher is coming. Don't want to get caught playing with mudbloods at this hour, yeah?"

"She wishes I would play with her," Wilkes replied, regarding Ophelia coldly, repeating the same action to Corwin before his face fell into an indifferent expression as he turned to slink down a nearby corridor.

"I told you they weren't as friendly as we are," Corwin sang, waving her wand in her face.

Ophelia slowly took her wand back from him, her hand trembling pathetically. She felt horribly defeated as well as humiliated. She knew how to defend herself, she _was_ a good witch, why had she been so cowardly before that man? Why was she unable to think quickly on her feet when she needed to? Surely she was more clever than that.  
"His older brother was a big follower of you-know-who. Probably not the best company to keep considering your blood status, poppet."

"Why are you out after hours?" This was all she could manage, though it was definitely not a question she needed to ask or cared to know the answer to.

"That means 'thank you' in what language exactly?"

"Thank you," she whispered, lowering her wand stiffly at her side, sincere in her words. He _did_ help her after all, for what reason she wasn't sure.

"Welcome. Don't cry unless you want to get their dicks up," he warned and she nearly vomited at the thought.

"He said Edric's parents would kill me," she said slowly after a few moments. "If they found out. They wouldn't actually kill me, would they?"

"Hard to say. Perhaps, though no one would know if they did anyway. It wouldn't trace back to them, probably look like an accident on your part actually. Why? Want out now? Sorry, it's a one way ticket into this madness. If you wanted a good time, you should have come to me first. I normally don't do mudbloods, but I could have made an exception for the one who fucked Blythe over, or at least handed you over to some willing half-bloods."

Ophelia rubbed her tongue along the back of her teeth as her head pained her with all of the alarm bells going off inside of it, warning her to get out as soon as she could.

This wasn't a game. These people were dangerous. Why had she underestimated them? Why hadn't she _believed_ the gossip?

"Will he tell anyone?"

Corwin shrugged. "Doubtful. No one would believe him, and I doubt he'd risk setting one of the ancients on him over a rumor that could easily be denied." He stopped to smirk mockingly at her. "People are likely to believe _me_ though, if I felt like sharing. Night, friend."

Ophelia didn't move as Corwin retreated, and she faintly registered the tears that began to drip from her chin and onto her uniform. It was minutes before she finally made herself move and when she did her steps were horribly unbalanced. She was not used to this darkness. She had never encountered any of this before she became involved with Edric. She didn't _want_ to become used to this. She stopped when she saw his cat perched near the entrance of her Common Room, staring at her. She walked over to her after staring back for a while and gathered her in her arms, sinking down the wall near her Common Room, no longer caring if a teacher found her. She'd risk the detention. She pressed her face into the cat's fur, using it to muffle her sobs. What had she gotten herself into?

She was nervous going into her Potions class the next day as that was the class she shared with that boy that had attacked her, but when she sat down she didn't find him in his normal spot in the corner grouped with his other nasty looking friends. She hadn't gone to breakfast that morning as she had slept through it from being up too late, and she also didn't want to see the boy in the Great Hall anyway.

"Glad I decided not to fuck with you," Corwin chuckled into her ear as he made his way over to his own seat. "Tell Greengrass I did you favors. He owes me one now."

She stared after him as he went to sit down, not understanding what he could possibly mean. The fact that Wilkes wasn't there? She hadn't told Edric what had happened, and he couldn't have known. What could he have done without admitting guilt?

Ophelia scanned the Slytherin table at lunch, her nerves eating at her as she ignored the food in front of her. The boy wasn't there. Maybe he was just sick and skipped that day, or just skipped because he felt like it. It certainly didn't seem as though he cared much for the rules or the school at all.

"Guessing you heard about Wilkes, yeah? What an idiot," Violet said in her usual excited tone when there was gossip going around, sitting beside her at the table.

"No I didn't hear about him," Ophelia answered, her stomach dropping. "What happened?"

"He's at Mungo's now. He was well past needing the Hospital Wing. He was found vomiting blood this morning, just _everywhere_. I saw some of the mess. It was disgusting. Apparently he took his _own_ poison that he had made following the directions in this dark arts book that was found in his things, switched it out with a sleeping potion on accident. What kind of moron _accidentally_ takes their _own_ potion? I swear, it's no wonder pure-bloods are becoming fewer and fewer. Well besides.. You know," Violet stopped to throw her a suggestive look. "Anyway, if he lives he's expelled anyway. Don't think anyone will miss him, though he _did_ have that sick and twisted masochistic vibe that was a bit sexy."

"If he lives?" Ophelia choked out, feeling the blood drain from her face.

"Well, duh. Don't be so put out. He's a terrible person, but yes. The dark arts hardly care if someone lives or dies, Fee."

Ophelia stayed a fair distance away from Edric as she stared at the ground that night after class, unsure of how to approach him, nervous he would be furious with her for being caught by Wilkes in the first place, till clueless to how he knew at all.

"Are you alright?" His voice wasn't angry, but light and concerned to her slight relief.

"Y-You.. You did that. To Wilkes. How did you.. When did you.. You saw? And you didn't do anything?" She asked, her voice small as her gaze searched the grass as if the answers were there.

"Of course I didn't see it, Ophelia," he nearly snapped. "Do you think I would have just done nothing if I had? No. I have other means of knowing."

"So you _did_ do something to him?"

"That's not what I said. The last I heard of the matter was that it was a foolish accident."

"Edric!" She cried, grasping at her head. "Please!"

"He threatened me," he said simply after a while. "Not that he could have done anything, but even so. It is not appreciated."

"If he couldn't have done anything then _why_ -"

"He degraded you. Suggested you were a whore to be paid for sex. Insulted you as a witch. He touched you. He _took your wand_. Do you understand the disrespect of taking someone's wand that way, Ophelia? Do I need more reasons than these? Do you expect me to allow him to do such things to what is mine? To _my_ witch?" His voice was different now as he spoke, angry and possessive.

"You're trusting me with all of this. How do you know I wouldn't go to the school-" She broke off, a thrill of fear she couldn't help stopping her words. "I'm _not_ threatening you, I'm-"

He had strode forward without hesitating, without checking around to see if they were alone as he usually did, without taking her closer towards the trees to conceal them better as he took her face in his hands as she spoke, forcing her to look at his bewildered and bright eyes.

"Why are you saying that as if I would ever hurt _you_ , Ophelia?" He asked, shaking his head slightly in confusion.

"Because you.. Wouldn't you? If I really did threaten you?" She asked, her throat growing thick.

"He made you cry," he said, his voice dropping into a weak tone as his eyes fillied with remorse. "He made you weep. What do you expect from me? Why are you looking at me as if you're afraid of me? We take care of our _own._ "

 _Weep?_ She hadn't wept until she had gotten to her Common Room, and she knew no one had been around then to see it.

"And you consider me to be a part of your own?"

" _Yes_ ," he bit out firmly, looking slightly offended at her words. "Do I truly come off as if I don't care about you? Do you think I'd risk everything if I was just using you for petty fun?"

Ophelia relaxed, chastising herself for practically melting at his words. She nodded slowly before glancing around them, looking towards the castle. "We should be careful," she whispered.

He kissed her deeply in response, obviously ignoring her words, still cradling her face in his hands. "I'm sorry," he told her quietly, his voice thick with regret. "I don't know what I would have done if someone hadn't come and he did worse to you."

"I didn't realize the danger I'd be put in over a forbidden fling," she said slowly, resisting the urge to forget all of her concerns and bury herself in his arms, reveling in his show of care for her.

"I never claimed selflessness, but please don't think I am taking your safety lightly. Now, is there anyone else I need to deal with who has found out about us?"

Ophelia stared at him. Surely he would have known about Corwin if he had known about the rest?

Realization hit her and she thought of his cat who had run off as soon as Corwin had arrived, the way the tag on her collar had felt oddly warm against her skin when she had hugged the animal to her but she had only dully taken note as her mind had been on other things.

"I.. I mean. Violet," she breathed. It wasn't exactly a _lie_ , and she could get away with holding back the truth. She never said Violet was the _only_ other person who knew.

Edric rolled his eyes, breaking their embrace and she shivered in her reluctance to let him go. "She knows how to keep her mouth shut. She should know from her father by now to let us be. Besides that, she even more so than Wilkes wouldn't be believed."

"What?" Ophelia asked, her face scrunching up in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps you ought to ask your _friend_ why you're her only muggle-born friend. Though I suppose you already know, seeing as you did call yourself her 'token muggle-born'."

* * *

"Come here you little brat. Let me take a look at you," the large, darkly cloaked wizard leered at Astoria, around ten years old.

Astoria was completely still, not making any move towards the hideous, ragged looking man in front of her.

"Are you deaf, you stupid girl? I said _come here_. You think you can lurk about and listen to what doesn't concern you and then blatantly disobey your elders?" The man hissed, walking towards her.

Astoria watched him, her face expressionless as she didn't move, didn't breathe at his approach. The man pushed his face close to hers, his foul breath brushing over her face as he got into her personal space. "I asked you a question."

"I do not require to answer to half-bloods," Astoria replied clearly as she watched his eyes unflinchingly.

The man's lip curled and he jerked back in anger. He raised his hand, bringing it back down to backhand her across the face with a fierceness in his fury at her insolence.

Astoria jolted in the bed next to her husband, inhaling the still air deeply as her dream cleared, the comforting smells of his bedroom calming her. Her face throbbed at the ghost of the bruising sting the hit had caused, as well as it had cut her lip so deeply against her teeth that blood had began to stream almost immediately after the Death Eater had struck her, only to have her look back at him with an indifferent defiance. Her dreams had consisted of strips of disturbing imagery in the recent nights, darker memories her mind had concealed on its own in its distaste towards them. She supposed it could be in result of her growing fear of the Manor being attacked, or the Pensieve downstairs haunting her with the possibilities of unwanted knowledge about her own family that she might be shown at any moment, unable to stop it. She looked over at Draco who looked surprisingly peaceful, undisturbed by her sudden start. Odd, he was usually one to wake up easily by even the smallest of things.

She turned over onto her stomach, watching his face under the strip of moonlight that peered through the curtains, the pale pink of his lips illuminated in a curious, alluring way. His features were soft in his deep sleep, making him appear almost innocent, his blonde hair falling back from his eyes gracefully. One would never imagine him dangerous or cruel if their first impression of him was this. Astoria hesitated before sliding closer to him, lightly grazing the tips of her fingers over his smooth, bare chest as she admired his almost sweet features. She was used to his face being slightly troubled when he slept, his eyes moving underneath his lids as he dreamt and his mouth was always set with an unpleasant tenseness. It was lovely to see him at ease for once.

They would truly make beautiful children.

She continued to move her hand up his chest until she reached his collarbones, tracing them lightly. She never got the time to really touch him herself, and their relationship was quite rocky as it was, but she always had an urge to touch him and evaluate what was hers properly. He felt good, solid and unmarred. He had good hygiene habits to the point where he was slightly feminine in them, but his family had always worked in that fashion. They were similar to the men in her own family, but just a bit more into their vanity than the Greengrass men. He didn't flinch or stir under her touches, which led her to shift slightly to gain better access to him as she explored his body. She stared at his lips, following the perfect and pronounced curve of his cupid's bow that made the top half of a heart shape. She reached up slowly to gently trace his lips with her thumb, cupping the side of his face carefully as she did so. She stilled when he shifted, only to break into a smile when his face pressed into her hand, still completely asleep.

She bit her lip gently, leaning forward until her lips only barely grazed his, feeling his light breaths against her skin. She very slowly pushed her lips down on his, closing them over his bottom lip, kissing him curiously, experimentally as he was unable to take demand of the kiss. She was in control for just a while, able to explore him how she pleased, just as he had done to her many times. She pulled back to examine his face again, stroking his cheek with her thumb as he seemed to enjoy her touch based on his reaction, pulling up her other hand to caress the opposite side of his face. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, knowing that it was unlikely she'd ever do so when he was awake and aware of her actions. She wiggled her body up slightly so she could reach his eyes, kissing the lids of them when she had gathered herself high enough before finally kissing his forehead, her breath catching when she felt his arms wind around her and gather her against him as he turned his body to the opposite side she was on, pulling her with him in his sleep. She tucked herself deeper into his arms neatly when he finally settled onto his side comfortably, her head under his chin as she cuddled up close to him, quickly falling back asleep in his tight embrace.

Draco woke to find Astoria balled into his arms, her hair brushing against the underside of his chin and her breath warming his throat. She had somehow ended up on _his_ side of the bed, and he assumed he had dragged her there. She was so small, so breakable in his arms he didn't want to disturb her in her childlike slumber. He moved only the slightest bit and her body stretched out slightly in response, pressing against his as her legs intertwined and curled around his, now clinging to him needily as she breathed deeply, letting out a loud and tired sigh. A thrill of affection went through him when she nuzzled her face against the crook of his neck, and he instinctively held her tighter to him. She fit perfectly against him, and though she couldn't invade his personal space much more than she currently was he wasn't bothered or overwhelmed by it and had no desire to shove her away. He searched for his usual thread of resentment for his wife, but couldn't find it in this moment. She was too sweet, too undeserving in her sleep as she clung to him as if she loved and needed him.

He allowed their position for at least an hour after waking up, drifting in and out of sleep with her before he forced himself up, laying her back down carefully onto his pillow and pulling the blankets back over her before going to the shower, preparing for the Aurors that day as usual. He knew they had to be fed up by now, as well as bored out of their minds watching them while not quite knowing what to say or do. They simply _monitored_ them really, occasionally jotting down notes though Draco wondered if they were actually writing anything or if they were simply making a show of it to get the message across that they were watching them. Draco didn't care, they could write down what they liked. It was clear enough that his family had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the uprising and he doubted that they could come up with a decent enough excuse to try to put him away for it.

Once dressed, he went back to Astoria to shake her shoulder until she woke up herself, blinking up at him in such a nauseatingly sweet way he had to press his lips into a hard line to control his affectionate reaction.

"Up," he told her, clapping his hands together twice in front of her face before stepping away. "All the way. Don't fall back asleep. You don't have very long." He didn't wait for her response before he left the room, allowing her to get ready on her own.

"Good morning, darling son-in-law," Astoria's mother announced when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "I was just going to find your elf to see if either of you were awake yet."

Draco regarded the woman guardedly, seeing her much differently now after the memories he had seen of her in recent times. Knowing of her past made her kept and flawless appearance all the more unnerving.

"Mrs. Greengrass," he greeted her neutrally. "I just woke her up. She will be down shortly, though only because the Aurors are coming. If not for them, she'd sleep until the afternoon."

"You allow that?" She asked, her face wrinkling up in dismay. "What a lazy little brat."

"For now, as there is nothing else for her to do, and I'm not one to enjoy breakfast."

"The Aurors? When? I'd prefer to not be present," she sniffed distastefully just as Granger peeked around the corner.

"Draco?" Draco grimaced at the use of his first name by the bitch, his eyes traveling down her form irritably. "We're here now. Bit early I suppose." Granger's eyes fell on Freya who inhaled deeply through her nose before smiling at Granger, her smile not reaching her eyes. "You are..?" Granger inquired, examining Freya curiously.

"My mother-in-law, Granger. She's only here to see Astoria, not to be interrogated," he replied dully, walking reluctantly into the sitting room to find two other female Aurors that he had only seen once before, Freya following him.

"Oh, Mrs. Greengrass! I've heard so much about you. I was actually just telling your daughters about what a shame it was about your family's property. So much _history_ in that house!"

"Yes, _truly_ a shame."

* * *

"So, I'm not really sure where to start. There's a lot of shit.. A lot of shit. Mostly your sister and your mother, if you want to know about either. Your sister being Astoria, Daphne is doing amazingly of course seeing as I've saved her from her miserable life," Pucey said, looking up towards the ceiling as he squinted at it, thinking everything over.

"Just spit it out, Pucey," Edric replied irritably, having no desire to picture his little sister with someone like him, though a part of him _was_ relieved Daphne had ended up with someone who didn't seem overtly cruel or a man who had followed Voldemort, and he would have no connection to his sisters at all had it not been for Pucey.

"Well. First of all. Astoria cheated on Malfoy," Pucey started.

Edric felt his face fall in disbelief, shocked and horrified at the thought. Of all the stupid mistakes.. To be unfaithful to a pure-blood husband was practically suicide.

"With Theodore Nott. Which I did warn him about. I told him he'd try to pull some shit, that that family still had issues with what Freya did, did he listen? No. No one listens to me, though I'm smarter than all of them."

" _What_?" he hissed, stepping back in his horror. "That _stupid_ girl. Is she still at the Manor? What did Malfoy do to her? How do you know? Did Nott make it public? Why the _fuck_ would she do something so foolish? Has she not learned any sense since I last saw her?"

Nott. The same Nott that Edric had informed Astoria multiple times not to befriend. Was she capable of listening? Absolutely not. Not when Edric was still in her life, and apparently not even now.

"Right," Pucey said slowly. "Well, I can show you what happened before-hand. She's still at the Manor, yes. He locked her in a room for a length of time, and didn't let Daphne see her. Which Daphne did _not_ appreciate, I'll tell you that much, and-"

"Show me," he snapped, turning to walk to his study, expecting Pucey to follow as he fought disturbing imagery of his little sister and Theodore Nott.

"Alright, well calm down a bit we're just getting started," Pucey grumbled. "I've barely told you anything yet and you're already throwing a fit."

Edric felt Ophelia on his arm, feeling her concern radiating off of her and he brushed it off, turning expectantly to Pucey before motioning to the Pensieve impatiently.

"You're a bit rude with your demands, and you don't even say the magic word. You're lucky I'm such a good brother, Eddy."

Edric narrowed his eyes coldly at Pucey, staring him down warningly. The idiot may be doing him a favor, but he had little patience for the man at the moment given the situation at hand.

"I'll.. Get some tea.." Ophelia murmured softly, exiting the study to give them space as Pucey pulled out several vials.

"Look. I came prepared," he announced, tipping one of them out into the Pensieve for Edric to watch as he leaned down to look into it.

Images of his confused little sister, gorgeous and well mannered, looking confused at Pucey's accusations appeared before him, his father's Pensieve revealing her performing the Cruciatus curse, followed by the fighting that broke loose between the men before his sister attacked Nott herself, afterwards falling into a breakdown. As he pulled back from the memory, all he could see was his sister's face crying and broken, bleeding from where she had dug her ring into her own skin deeply enough to break it. The humming she had used to comfort herself while she was all alone in her pain echoed in his ears, taunting him, reminding him of his abandonment. He hadn't been there for her, hadn't been there through any of it. It was his fault.

All of it.

"When she left the Manor," he started, his voice tense as he spoke as he thought of her humming herself down into an eerie calmness after standing in one place for much too long before leaving. "She went to Nott? That's when she did it? Right after she had been so angry with him?" He felt the slightest bit of pride to think of her attacking the piece of shit, though mournful as well as her heartbreak was written clearly on her face as she had thrown the curses at him. She had been relentless, powerful. Her temper always had been strong.

"That's what I connected. They didn't fuck. If they had I'm sure Draco would have done more than just imprison her in a room for a couple of weeks. He only just let her out recently. She was thinner though, and she looked a bit haunted the first time I saw her again after Malfoy's little punishment period."

"Did she appear beaten?" Edric asked quietly, fury rising through him at the thought of Malfoy _punishing_ his sister, his _baby_ sister. "Show me."

"Hold on. I'll show you in a bit, but there are other things that happened in that memory that I don't want to get to just yet. Trying to take this one at a time, maybe we should do this in sessions. No. Draco told me he didn't touch her, told me he wouldn't even speak to her actually. He just left her in a room, alone."

Edric's eyes fluttered closed and he attempted to keep keep his temper down, nearly shaking at the thought of Astoria abandoned and alone with her grief. He could imagine that she would have preferred to be beaten.

"Well.. I suppose he did brand her with dark magic.."

His eyes snapped open to stare at Pucey, bile rising in his throat. "What did you say?" He asked softly, stepping towards him.

"Alright, alright," Pucey said, raising his hands. " _I_ didn't brand her, now did I? Don't come at me. Yeah, they must have something that sets them off because I couldn't see them when I first got there, not that it would be very practical to have your wife covered in multiple brandings all of the time. Wouldn't look great in formal settings."

"Branded.. Like livestock?" He faintly heard his wife ask in concern as his vision began to cloud.

"'Property of Draco Malfoy'," Pucey said, clearing his throat.

A ringing began to sound in Edric's ears and he knew he was shaking now, his head spinning wildly at the thought. He didn't want to see that, no not that. Not on Tori, not on his baby sister he was meant to protect, who he had _promised_ to protect. His wife responded to Pucey, but he couldn't make out any words until: "seemed to cause her a shit ton of pain, Malfoy just stood there calmly. Don't know how you can see her like that and not weep at the sight, poor thing. She's practically a child."

She _was_ a child.

Memories of his sister attacked his mind, beating him nearly senseless in their reminders of his guilt, images of her face as a little girl mixing in with the images of the girl she was today; empty and obedient, but still innocent and undeserving. It wasn't right, it wasn't her. She didn't deserve any of this, he didn't care what she had done to Malfoy. She deserved a man so much better, a man that understood her, a man that didn't break her spirit. But Malfoy hadn't been the one to do that.

He had been the man that had broken her spirit.


	46. Chapter 46

"Well. It's a ladies' day apparently," Freya quipped, sitting gracefully on one of Draco's armchairs after eyeing the Aurors in front of her.

Draco didn't pay any mind to the names of the accompanying Auror women, sitting himself down reluctantly. Lately they hadn't had too many new questions, and Draco was usually able to ignore them to a point, but he was sure with a new face they would want to speak more than they had in recent meetings.

Perfect.

"Mrs. Greengrass. I can see where Astoria gets some of her looks. She has a beautiful mother," Granger offered.

"Ah, yes. My looks. My greatest accomplishment."

"Your family is one of the pure-blood families that went into hiding. I'm surprised you would come here after it was your daughter who suggested Adrian Pucey remain at home once he came back."

"Adrian Pucey was not in hiding, Miss Granger, and I do have to check on my children _occasionally._ I may not ever win mother of the year, but what would I look like if I simply abandoned them?"

"Hermione, Mr. Greengrass works with the Ministry all of the time. He's a trusted man," the smaller Auror closest to Granger said, her tone filled with admiration. Draco's nose wrinkled at the girl who obviously had some sort of attraction for the older, unnerving wizard.

Freya arched a brow at the girl, an amused smirk gracing her lips. "Indeed he is."

Hermione threw the girl a half scowl, her lips pursing. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Greengrass. I'm afraid I'm not as familiar with your husband as Amy is."

"Don't look at me like that," the girl, Amy apparently, grumbled. "He's a very respectable man. I was only informing you."

The taller Auror snorted and nudged her mockingly. "His wife is right there. Don't be shameless."

"I'm sorry," Granger said, her eyelids fluttering irritably as she looked away from the women beside her. "They are new. There is some professionalism that seems to still need a bit of work."

"Oh, pish posh. I am perfectly fine with my husband's fan club expressing their praise for him. I will control my jealous _rage_ ," Freya expressed, her tone sugary. "Bit old for you though isn't he, Amy? You know, what women are attracted to is so fascinating to me. At school I found the girls outside of our adorable little pure-blood community were quite drawn to our men. Yes, my husband is rather handsome I suppose, but then there are the girls who just fancy men who are obviously horrible for them. I'd imagine it's harder for us to see the appeal because these are _our_ men, and it's different when your futures actually depend on them and their dark ways about things. Tell me, Miss Granger, what kind of darkness are you into?"

Draco chuckled under his breath knowingly, recalling plenty of the girls Freya was referring to, all of them entirely all too eager to experience the _darkness_ the woman was suggesting.

"Oh, Mrs. Greengrass, I wouldn't consider your husband one of _those_ men," the smaller Auror said, sounding embarrassed as she blushed. "I didn't mean to sound as if I was thinking about your husband inappropriately. Where is he right now?"

"Business I suppose. Perhaps he's off with one of the relatives he has floating around. I don't know, and I don't particularly care."

"Hello, Astoria," Granger said brightly, her voice sounding tight with her frustration towards her colleague. "Good morning! You look well."

Draco looked up to see his wife dressed and fully well together as she greeted the Aurors with her usual false warmness before she greeted her mother, coming to sit by his side once she was finished with her pleasantries.

"Hmm. She's looked better. Astoria, it's good you've finally decided to wake up and make something of the day. We were just discussing men and the kind of men we fancy. Perfect girl talk, no? I feel as if I'm gossiping in the Common Room again with all of my girl friends again," Freya said cheerfully, though Draco could sense an underlying tone of mocking.

"Didn't you only have one 'girl friend', Mrs. Greengrass?" Draco asked dully, entirely uninterested in this female nonsense that he was about to be subjected to.

"Draco! I had no idea you knew so much about me. Has your mother been telling you that I was particularly disliked? Tsk, now. That's not a very nice reputation she is spreading about me."

"Not at all, Freya. She only has lovely things to say about you," Draco replied. It was mostly true at least.

"Malfoy," Granger said sharply and he felt his lip curl slightly as he regarded her coolly, nearly sneering at the annoyingly fierce look in her eyes. "You are talking about Narcissa as if you have seen her."

"Mmm. Am I? Well, I don't know where they are, Granger. They are _in hiding_ , do you really think my mother foolish enough to allow me the knowledge of where they are staying knowing full well you people would be down my throat? Am I not allowed to speak of my mother at all?"

Astoria sighed beside him, resting her hand on his leg gently, almost warningly. "Hermione. Draco loves his parents very much, and I assure you it is hard not knowing of their well-being. We _wish_ we knew where they were," his wife expressed worriedly, looking up at Draco sadly in her little show she was putting on for the Aurors.

"Well, his parents are breaking the law, Astoria," Granger said evenly, taking a breath after she spoke as she seemed to show an understanding for his wife's words.

"They are not breaking the law if they were not aware they were meant to stay for your useless little investigations before they fled."

"Malfoy. Don't be difficult. You know full well-"

"Do not tell me what I know," Draco cut her off dismissively. "Only I know what I know."

"Come now, children!" Freya interjected, smoothing the skirt of her dress as she scolded them gently. "I thought we were talking about _boys_."

"I don't know if Draco would find it appropriate for me to participate, mother," Astoria replied, watching her mother without any expression.

"I'm well aware of the type of man you fancy, love," he told his wife, examining the front of her.

"It's perfectly fine, Astoria. I'm more interested in these ladies' tastes for our men."

"Mrs. Greengrass, I don't know if this is really-"

"Nonsense. Unless you have some groundbreaking new questions for Draco and my daughter I see no reason for dull small talk. Believe me, I get enough of that," Freya cut her off, waving her hand.

Granger considered her for a moment before shaking her head slowly as she thought of what to say. "I never really understood the desire for those type of men, Mrs. Greengrass. 'Your men', as you say. Though, I really would encourage you seeing beyond the men in your circle. I don't know your husband, but I hope you do not feel confined to someone who doesn't treat you as well as you should."

"Hermione, it's not as if Aldrich is like Malfoy," _Amy_ muttered to Granger and Draco narrowed his eyes, smiling coldly.

"Funny. I've had plenty of _nice_ girls want me. What house were you in? I'm sure I've had some of your friends."

"Malfoy that is a _completely_ unnecessary thing to say," Granger huffed, straightening her papers. "Astoria was considerate of your feelings and yet you are unable to show her the same courtesy."

"I don't mind it, Hermione. I'm quite aware of the amount of women my husband had as toys. I'm confident in myself enough not to be bothered," Astoria sniffed, eyeing the shorter Auror girl who insisted on praising her father.

"Toys," Granger said slowly. "That's a bit.. Well, I wouldn't use that word choice."

"You wouldn't, Miss Granger, but our men surely do," Freya said dismissively. "Well, men in general really. Let's not pretend yours are perfect gentlemen all of the time."

"They refer to you as a toy?"

"We're trophies. Not toys. Though, yes there is a question if there is truly a difference. They certainly are not careful about breaking us, as they can easily replace as if we're toys."

"And do you feel as if your husband sees you as someone replaceable?"

Freya smiled, sitting back. "No. I do not. Only a fool would think that, and my husband is an intelligent man."

"I am happy to hear you are confident in yourself, Mrs. Greengrass. Sometimes I worry your daughter is having an issue in that area."

"Do you not realize you humiliate her when you speak of her as if she is a child, Granger?" Draco drawled, feeling his wife tense beside him.

"My daughter knows what she is worth, and Draco makes a very good point. No one likes to be pitied. Be careful with that."

Granger took a deep breath before she seemed to drop the issue, glancing at Astoria for a moment to gauge her reaction in which she gave none aside from what Draco could feel from her tense legs.

"Yes, nice girls _do_ tend to be drawn to the _bad_ boys, don't they? Hmm. Well, you know what they say about the other side and the shade of their grass," Freya mused, going back to the topic of men much to Draco's displeasure.

"Or to put it more appropriately they just want what isn't theirs," Astoria said coldly, staring forward.

"I thought you weren't bothered by it, Astoria?" Hermione asked her gently, tilting her head.

"It isn't _me_ she's bothered by, Granger," Draco said, watching his wife in his peripheral vision.

"Or perhaps they can give our men more than you can and you ought to work on yourself, darling. Bitterness doesn't become you."

"I'm sure that's not it, Mrs. Greengrass. Your daughter is a more than lovely girl whose school records show evidence in her being an excellent witch as well."

"Have you ever been degraded, Miss Granger? Or 'bullied', I suppose? Have you ever been made to publicly cry or run off in shame?"

"I.." Granger frowned, glancing at Draco. "Yes."

"Mhm. I raised my children wanting to make them cry before anyone else could. You're allowed to cry, you have more than just your pride. You're looking at Draco because he has humiliated you, no? The difference between you and my daughter is that you get to run away and hide in your little friends' arms, so a bit of advise from me to you would be to stop comparing us as if we are the same."

"If she _wants_ to run away then-"

"I don't want to run away," Astoria said softly. "I'm also right here, as is my husband who you are speaking negatively about in his own home."

"It's hard to understand a world you are not a part of, I'm afraid," Freya sighed dramatically. "And I don't see myself ever wearing those shoes of yours to walk a mile in them. They're quite horrible, I'm sorry to say."

"Umm.. Mrs. Greengrass," the taller Auror who had mocked her partner started. "Maybe you could help us with another issue. Aren't we putting a lot of attention on the Notts, Hermione? From what I've heard they were close in school.. When Voldemort's support really started to form."

"Were you?" Granger asked, perking up with interest. "Can you tell us what you witnessed?"

"A lot of attention on the Notts," Freya tsked. "Meaning what exactly? You wish to imprison them? Joseph's loyalty to Voldemort during the wars was excused once he gave himself up and offered his assistance in finding those who ran after the war, no?"

"Yes, though I don't believe that was a fair trade at all, as well as Lucius, but.. Well. He is certainly being considered for what has been happening recently."

"I see," Freya said thoughtfully. "Alright. Yes, I knew of his involvement. We were quite close. I don't think he is behind the recent attacks, however. Have you seen him? He looks quite finished with everything."

"And you didn't.. Say anything.. To anyone?" Granger said slowly, watching Freya carefully. "Even though you knew he was involved with what he was involved with?"

"And why would I do that, Miss Granger?"

"Because, well.. For obvious reasons," she nearly spluttered. "You could have saved many lives."

"It is not our place to get into a man's business, nor was I interested in getting into it," Freya said dismissively. "He was my best friend and nearly my betrothed. I was not likely to snitch on him."

"Oh," Granger sat back, nodding at her words. "Your betrothed. I see."

"You see? So I'm excused for not 'saving many lives' now? Why is that?"

"Well.. You couldn't have known of everything that they did or planned to do. You kept to your own business, and I'm sure you would have gotten hurt should you have tried to tell anyone. The deaths are on his hands in the end, not your own."

A slow smile spread across her face. "I couldn't have known? Oh darling, I knew exactly the types of things they were doing. Why are you excusing me, love? Tell me, why do you only mention Lucius when you mention the Death Eaters who got off so easily. What of Narcissa? This was her home as well, no? Do you think she 'couldn't have known' what was going on in her own home?"

Draco's jaw tightened at the mention of his mother, silently cursing the woman for bringing her up. It's not as if she had much of a choice on whether or not she went along with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, though he also knew she cared much more about his family's well-being rather than the fates of innocents.

"Narcissa is a devoted wife, a product of the world she was raised in, and Lucius is an intimidating man. She was doing the best she could do as a mother," Granger sighed.

"A devoted wife?" Freya laughed. "Oh my sweet girl, if Lucius told Narcissa to die for him at his hand she would lie down at his feet and wait for the killing curse. It goes beyond being a 'devoted wife'. Still, Narcissa is not incapable, and Narcissa is the one who held her family together through it all if you were to pay attention. Intimidating? Well, I can assure you I was never afraid of Joseph, nor was I a devoted wife to him. You're running out of excuses for me, I'm afraid."

"I don't believe Narcissa is incapable," Granger replied, looking at Draco. "She saved Harry. She was very brave."

Draco snorted loudly, looking away from her in disbelief that she most likely thought she was giving his mother some sort of large praise. "Of course. A person is only truly worth anything if they save Harry fucking Potter. Oh, and if they're _brave._ "

"That's not what I was saying, Malfoy. I was just saying that she isn't incapable. I don't know her, so obviously I can only give examples from what I _know_. I'm sure there is more to her, but I couldn't tell you," she exclaimed. "I'm _trying_ to be fair. Stop trying to twist everything I say."

"You are trying to be fair," Astoria agreed lightly. "We appreciate it."

"Like fuck we do. Stop talking about my mother," Draco snapped, shifting away from Astoria only to have her shift with him, not allowing the space he attempted to create.

He didn't try to move again.

"So you only believe _me_ incapable then," Freya suggested, smirking pointedly. "Seeing as you know nothing of me, and you are excusing me from doing nothing about what Joseph was doing."

"No." Granger frowned. "That's not true."

"I remember one night there was an event Joseph and I were attending, I can't remember where exactly.. That isn't particularly important I suppose, but we were late, and he was exceptionally late. He came to his room dressed in that ridiculous outfit they wore at the time covered in blood. I can assure you the blood was not his. You see, when little girls start playing with the big boys they have these red flags they take note of until they decide they've seen enough red and leave the situation and that they've had enough of their fun. However, we are born surrounded by red flags, so of course we grow numb to them. I have wondered how a woman like you would feel seeing their likely future husband, future father to her children covered in another's blood, an innocent's blood while he acted indifferent. As if the blood wasn't even there. How would you feel, Hermione?"

Granger stared at her for a moment before moving her head slowly back and forth. "I.. I'm not sure, Mrs. Greengrass.. I-"

"I didn't feel anything," Freya said simply. "The blood was simply a nuisance as we had an event to look perfect and presentable for, _blood_ was certainly not the pretty fashion trend at pure-blood parties. No, I wasn't concerned about whose blood or why, I was only annoyed he was so late. I took his hands, washed off the mess - as that's all it was to me; a mess - and grabbed his clothes that were suitable for the event to urge him to ready himself. That was that. He was clean. We went on as if it was nothing, and it was nothing to me. It wasn't on my mind whatsoever. Later, I found myself staring at my hands. There was blood under my nails, and I couldn't for the life of me think of how it had gotten there. That's how little seeing and touching the evidence of death of another impacted me, Miss Granger. I couldn't even recall it. Now, what does that make me?"

The Aurors were silent as they watched her and Granger's lips parted slightly as she looked for words to say. Astoria was watching her mother as well, though she was watching her with a look of disapproval. Astoria was relatively honest as well, though she didn't go out of her way to paint a gruesome picture.

"As you said," Granger murmured finally. "When you are raised with red flags, you grow numb to them."

Freya laughed lightly. "Alright, Miss Granger. I'll accept the fact you find my mind less than yours."

"No, I don't," Granger said evenly, her voice stronger. "I'm not sure where you are gathering that. I am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt.

"And what of Lucius and Joseph? As you don't believe it's fair they got off so easy. Are they not 'a product of the world they were raised in'?"

"I see what you're saying, Mrs. Greengrass. I do," Granger said carefully. "But-"

"For the record, Narcissa knew what Lucius was doing as well when we were at school, and yet she still wanted to marry him. She cared less than I did, actually, and I can assure you the war did not devastate her for the same reasons the war devastated you. She didn't care just as I didn't, just as Astoria didn't, just as most of our women don't care about those things, though we are fully capable of doing so. We are not mindless. We choose not to care. We choose to look the other way. Well, unless we are encouraging it of course."

Draco ground his teeth together, refraining from snapping at the woman for bringing up his mother again. She was his wife's mother and he was taught to have a bit more respect than that, and he couldn't help but have a respect for the woman on his own accord.

Granger sighed, her shoulders falling slightly as she looked down at her papers, beginning to busy herself with them. She didn't seem to want to try to argue any longer, disappointed.

Did she actually think she would bring any of the women to her _light_ side?

"We take care of our own, Hermione," Astoria said, glancing in her mother's direction. "It is not meant as an offense to anyone else."

 _Hermione_. Astoria continued to pretend she cared even a shred about the bitch or her opinions.

"Did you care, Astoria?" Freya asked her daughter, her tone lilted with false curiousness.

"That wasn't relevant to the goal, no," Astoria answered calmly.

"Wasn't relevant," the taller Auror muttered with a scoff, looking at Granger with bewilderment. "Yeah, completely irrelevant if the guy you want to marry kills people."

"Well.. You didn't marry him, Mrs. Greengrass," the smaller Auror offered lamely, looking to Freya.

"Yes. For reasons other than what you are hoping, selfish reasons of course, but you are right. Aldrich is _much_ less messy than Joseph," Freya responded, her voice sugary again.

"And if Aldrich told you to die for him? Would you get on the ground and allow it as you say Narcissa would?" Granger asked, looking up to meet Freya's eyes.

Freya held her gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly as a cold humored glint flashed in them.

"He wouldn't have to tell me."

* * *

Blaise sat at the table silently with his mother, both of them eating while keeping to themselves. Usually his mother was one to talk throughout the meal, but she seemed to sense his mood and had left him alone in the recent days. It was just them at the table, which Blaise preferred. He didn't fancy sitting at the same table as men who believed they could pose as his father until they decided to mistreat Evelyn and set her off. He had never wanted to believe that his mother had killed his actual father, never wanted to believe it even though he had more than enough evidence to think as much. How could he believe his mother who loved him would take his father away from him?

He did believe it, and a part of him had always resented her for it.

He had tried to justify it, telling himself if she killed his step fathers for mistreating her then his father must have done the same. He must have _deserved_ to die. He had wanted him to deserve it. If he had, then maybe it would have been okay. He had heard rumors of his father, of him being mad, and that had helped him justify it. He never asked his mother about it, afraid she would tell him something he didn't like. She never denied killing him, but never confirmed it either.

She had let him believe that she had murdered his father when she hadn't.

She had let him hold a resentment for her, had denied him the truth when the truth would have hurt so much less. Yes, he would have had still been dead, but he had already _known_ he had been murdered. He was young when his father had been killed, but he still remembered him faintly. He remembered especially the events after he was killed. He remembered the looks of pity and disgust towards his mother, remembered the whispers. He remembered his mother acting as though she wasn't upset but he remembered her weeping, though he couldn't remember where he had been when he heard it.

"Mum," he said, breaking the silence.

"Mmm? Are you in the mood to chat now? You haven't been at Draco's lately. Did you two get into a spat? You're not.. Gay are you? It wasn't a lovers' spat was it? Blaise, love. He's married. Besides, the perks of having a son is that I _don't_ have to deal with nasty son-in-laws mistreating my baby."

"No," he said, his voice hollow. "No."

His mother sat back, watching him seriously now. "What is it, Blaise?"

"Why didn't you tell me..? Why wouldn't you tell me? I don't understand," he murmured, shaking his head slowly as he tried to go through his thoughts.

"Tell you what? _Please_ use your words. I cannot read minds."

"Why didn't you tell me that you didn't kill father?"

Evelyn said nothing for what seemed like hours, staring at him before she blinked herself out of her stiff expression and resumed cutting her food. "Which father, love?"

Blaise pushed himself back in his chair, her words stinging him as if she'd slapped him. "My _only_ father," he said harshly, standing as he stared down at her.

"Sit down," she snapped. "I will not have you speaking over me Blaise Donati. Sit. Now."

Blaise stared down at her for several moments, his chest rising and falling in his angry breaths through his nose. Slowly, he sat, staring at her intently, feeling a fury towards her that he never had.

"Why have you brought this up? When did I say that I killed your father?"

" _Everyone_ says that you killed my father," he hissed. "You kill every other man within ten feet of you, of course I would assume that's what you did."

"That's not true, Blaise. I do not kill-"

"For _fuck's sake_ , mum. Tell me. To protect him? Is that it? To keep your mouth shut?"

"What are you.." She said slowly, swallowing. "Who is him?"

"Greengrass. Your friend at school. The one who _murdered_ my father, and the one who murdered your husband. Well, his son anyway. If you want to be specific."

"How do you know this?" She asked quietly, her eyes falling to the table. "Who told you this?"

"I told you. Draco has his Pensieve. Who cares how I know? How could you let everyone blame you for that? How could you let him fucking _speak_ to you after that? What is _wrong_ with you? How could you let me grow up believing my own mother killed my own father in cold blood for _money_?"

"I didn't see the point in telling you otherwise," she sighed, her dark brown eyes low. "Would you have believed me? With what everyone says?"

"Of course I would have fucking believed you. I already spent most of my life trying to convince myself against what everyone says. Who is everyone compared to my mother?"

"I'm sorry, Blaise. I don't know why I.. I just never knew what to say. I never wanted to talk about it."

"And we never did talk about it," he replied bitterly. "Never."

"You can't tell anyone," she said softly. "You can't. Let people go on believing what they believe. It won't bring him back."

"Or what? I'll be poisoned by an eleven year old as well?"

"Just don't. I can't bear anything happening to you. You're my whole life. Please, Blaise. Please."

"But that bitch can tell everyone things about me, but-"

"Who," she demanded. "Who is that bitch?"

"Astoria," he said dismissively. "It doesn't-"

"Astoria?! And what did she tell? What did you _do_ , Blaise. I can't believe you-"

"Can't believe I did what?" He asked dryly. "You don't know what I did yet."

" _Don't_ interrupt me, you idiot boy. Don't you dare interrupt me. Tell me what you did right now."

"I fucked Ginny Weasley," he said flatly. "Hardly anything to write home about. Plenty of other pure-bloods fuck worse."

Evelyn's nose wrinkled in disgust and pushed back her long, black braids embellished with gold beads. "Maybe so but they don't get caught, now do they? Of all the blood traitors and you choose a Weasley? Where do you possibly get your taste?"

"What I did is beside the point. The point is that she-"

"You are quite angry at a girl for simply embarrassing you. That's why you have been avoiding Draco?"

"No. I haven't been at Malfoy Manor as much because the child of my father's murderer is there," he spat. "Am I meant to take that lightly?"

"Blaise. You have to forget about Aldrich."

"Forget him?!"

"Yes. Forget him. Unlike your father who didn't listen to me and chose to threaten him anyway."

"With what? That his wife killed that Auror? That she destroyed her family's property?"

His mother gasped, dropping her fork onto her plate. "She did all that? She killed an Auror? Aha! I knew I liked her at least a tad," she said, sounding impressed.

"Of course you like the woman who takes the dick of a man who murdered your husband," Blaise growled, his lip curling.

"Blaise. Please. Please don't talk about your father. I don't like it," she asked him gently before perking up slightly. "And yes, though I know she is burning inside. Being married to Aldrich."

"You were friends with _Aldrich_ ," he sneered, not pressing the issue of his father as he wasn't used to seeing his mother so vulnerable. He didn't like seeing her that way, and he didn't want to be the cause of it, no matter how much he wanted to address the issue further.

"Being friends with and being married to are two different matters entirely," she told him. "Tell me about this Auror she killed. I'm _so_ intrigued."

"Tell me what he knew if those two things weren't it."

"Oh no. I won't tell you. I can keep my mouth shut. You can't. Now continue to mind your business. Don't you dare go around opening your mouth, Blaise. Don't do it. I cannot live if something happens to you."

"How do you even live with yourself knowing you were friends with someone who did that to our family?"

"Without him you wouldn't have been born a Zabini, Blaise. That's how it works. You do Aldrich favors, he does you favors," she said, beginning to sound annoyed. "That's how it works with many friendships."

"Until he fucking doesn't."

"Yes, well. He can give just as he can take away."


	47. Chapter 47

Aldrich Greengrass allowed Evelyn Bissette's voice to fade into a murmur as he closed off the sounds of the Great Hall. She was merely giving him useless gossip at this point, as she usually did. However, she was productive in the sense that at times she had useful things to tell him, as women were far too trusting with their fellow females. He was hardly interested in the chatterings of how everyone spent their summer vacations, where they traveled to, how drunk they had gotten. It was all nonsense. It was his very last year to deal with it, and for that he was grateful. So many messy and idiotic students made him tense, and he couldn't stand not having his own space, couldn't stand not being in complete control of his surroundings.

He would have to take on a wife, which was more of a chore to him than anything. He would be able to control any woman more than easily, that wasn't the issue, but too many women irritated him with how mundane they tended to be, especially those from their community. He needed a sense of triumph and pride in the woman he called his wife, and most of the pure-blood girls that were up for his hand were far too simple and pliant. Scholarly intelligence is not the same as a woman with raw wit and a passionate soul. She needed to come near rivaling him in terms of the mind. Not that he would tolerate a disobedient wife, but he would like a woman who had to disobey her own true desires and instincts to sit by his side, he wanted her to be tortured to live as a simple house-wife just as he was tortured in dealing with such people every day, listening to their idiocy, navigating through their foolish choices.

But for power it was worth it.

According to his parents at least. Yes, he enjoyed power but he wasn't completely sure if the efforts were _worth_ it, but surely once he was finished being surrounded by loud school children life would be much more bearable. His eyes skipped over the groups of girls down the Slytherin table, almost all of them in full depth conversations about their summers, fashion, _boys_. Quite typical young female conversations for them to be having, nothing entirely shameful or to be looked down upon.

Ah, but not his witch. She was not participating in the usual female gushing. She barely tolerated _one_ woman, and Narcissa was not too obnoxious herself, though she was still simple and dull. His witch had a head on her; true sense. She was a challenge in that she didn't want to be controlled and was fearful of a man taking over her mind and changing her. He didn't want to change her, only leash her. It wasn't difficult to piece together her home life. He had seen how her father treated her when he thought no one was looking, seen how her brother treated her in the halls. Her brother respected Aldrich, but he did not return that respect. The way he spoke about his sister was inexcusable, to speak of one's own family in a way that brings shame on one's name was disgraceful. Her mother's death had been suspicious, and he was almost completely sure, as were his parents, that the woman had been murdered. Not a terribly rare occurrence in their world, but still unsettling enough to people to cause a stir in conversation. So, a girl who grew up abused by the men in her family with a dead mother. Not an original backstory, but the darkness the girl held in her was terribly intriguing, and it was her character that was original. She took strength from her horrors, and only some were intelligent to do as much. She had a strong distaste for Aldrich, that much was clear. Not that he needed her to like him, on the contrary.

Where was the game in that?

She had been wary of him even before he had forcibly shut her mouth when she was sat next to him in class, before she had much of any encounters with him at all. It was all too amusing to see such a woman always so confident, unless placed before her brother, squirm in discomfort at the sight of him. It wouldn't and didn't make sense to anyone else, no one was _fearful_ of him the way she was. They underestimated him, she didn't. She didn't because she had some sense, and she knew a man able to rival her when she saw one. He doubted she was wary of him in fear he might be violent towards her as she had been raised in violence. It was hardly anything new. No, he wouldn't be violent towards her, but he did want to possess her in the truest way he could imagine and she could sense it. Her mind and will, her sureness of herself in this world was all she had left, yet he wanted to invade that as well, and everything inside of her screamed that truth at her just by barely knowing him.

Clever girl.

She was not sitting with her normal set of idiots, and even Narcissa was not across from her. She was alone, her body and face appearing slightly fuller than it had the previous year; healthier. He had noticed the subtle changes in the events he had caught glimpses of her at over the vacation. Health suited her much better than starvation. There was more color in her face as well, and her skin which wasn't as pale. He didn't assume her family the type to go on tropical vacations. Her face and body appeared healthy, but her expression seemed off. Worried and unsure. Out of character for her. He noticed the light, almost unnoticeable pink flush to her cheeks and felt his own expression falter into something smug. Did his witch have a summer romance? How adorable. He doubted it had anything to do with Nott, as the idiot hardly kept a hold on the girl, and he had only distanced himself more and more from her leaving her to go off and make her own foolish decisions. Which, based on her glowing appearance but fretful expression, he assumed she had made quite the foolish when not under her assumed betrothed's care. Now Aldrich was really curious.

"She hates you, you know," Evelyn mused, pulling him from his own head.

"Hate is a strong word," he replied, separating the foods on his plate with his fork mindlessly. "But indeed, Evelyn. She does."

"Out of all the prim and proper women _pining_ after you, of course you want Freya Krat who can't stand you."

"But of course. Have you come to expect anything less from me over the years?"

"No, but you might be out of luck for once, Aldrich. Not to insult your own family name, but she's practically already Freya Nott at this point. You should have taken an interest in her earlier."

Yes, that was a problem, wasn't it? His parents were convincing, and they agreed with him that she would be a good choice, but he wasn't deluded enough to believe his family would win over her father on their charm alone. The Notts were the family to beat, and as long as that were true they had the ultimate pick over the brides.

Well, perhaps they would have another pick if Aldrich were to make Freya undesirable to them, though he was also aware of the fondness the Nott family had for the girl, as well as Joseph himself who was not _completely_ stupid. The efforts he would have to go to remove her from their first choice may not be worth it, and especially not worth it should he dedicate himself to having her only to fail. No, he did not fancy facing failure just for a girl he had an interest in.

"I suppose we will see," he told Evelyn thoughtfully, closing her voice off again to his ears.

Nearly a week later he was making his way to his next class, passing by many of those in his own year and house to catch Lucius Malfoy leering something unintelligible to his witch, causing her to step back in offense, her eyes narrowing as her temper flared. Usually, she kept her appearances up towards the more respectable wizards, but apparently she had little control of herself in that moment because she drew her wand at him, causing him and the others of his group to turn on her with highly amused and mocking expressions.

"Control your female, Nott. I won't be kind to her should she choose to use her magic on me," Malfoy said, arching a brow at Freya.

"Freya. Relax," Nott sighed, shaking his head at her. "Don't be foolish in front of the wrong people."

Freya snorted loudly at him in disgust. "You relax, Nott. This is between your boyfriend and I. Go play with the rest of your half-blood worshipping idiots."

"Freya-" Narcissa was cut off when Lucius sent a curse towards Freya who swiftly blocked it and sent one back, aiming at the man's knees to knock him down on them.

Aldrich tilted his head slightly, watching the scene unfold with interest. Daring girl she was. Picking a fight with a Malfoy, with any man of respect, in front of his peers was not a very wise decision, even if there were only few relevant men of status witnessing it.

"Honestly, Malfoy?" Nott snapped. "You allow a little girl to get the better of you?"

He nearly chuckled when he watched Freya freeze, staring at Nott in disbelief before her expression dropped into a look of cold humor, raising her wand to him now.

Raising her wand to her future husband? Aha. A bold woman indeed.

Nott lasted longer than Malfoy had, but he too ended up dropping to his knees at the witch's hand, onlookers who knew of the extremity of her actions went silent in disbelief.

"Honestly, Nott? You allow a _little girl_ to get the better of you?" Freya sneered.

Aldrich walked up to his classmates curiously, eyeing both Malfoy and Nott. Malfoy was nearly shaking with anger as he gathered his wits about him, and Nott was only staring at Freya as he slowly lifted himself up back up from the ground.

Perhaps he wouldn't have to do much to get his witch out of the Nott family's good graces, it seemed she might manage that on her own.

"So this is whose hands the future of our world is in? Wizards who aren't even capable of properly dueling this woman? She's to be your wife, no? Now, if you can't control your wife how do you expect to conquer the wizarding world exactly?" He asked indifferently, meeting Freya's green eyes, watching as they faltered for a moment under his gaze before hardening again.

He blocked the first of her curses calmly, impressed at the power behind them. He didn't have the desire to duel her, if he was being honest with himself he was sure she could get the better of him as well. He grazed her senses, touching onto her mind and halting the flick of her wand as she froze, bending her to his will. He ignored the burning of his head as he pushed his limits grabbing onto her mind this way, though the fact that a part of her seemed almost eager to comply, eager to relieve herself of her magic and fight made it possible to get the results he wanted. He held out his hand patiently, watching her as she struggled with herself, her eyes moving frantically as she lowered her wand to her opposite hand, rotating it so she could hand him the proper end. He took her wand, nodding to her once as he dropped his hold on her mind, watching her stumble back a few steps in horror, her eyes wild as she stared at him in her dismay. Everyone surrounding them had fell into silence now, watching the exchange between the two of them in shock, and he could feel Nott's alarm and desire to defend the girl even in his own anger towards her.

Ah, but she was _his_ witch. Nott didn't know what to do with her.

"Thank you, love," he told her clearly, offering her a polite smile before he stepped away and towards the Slytherins he preferred, the pounding in his head worth it, taking her wand with him as she began to stalk away from the scene in a shaken state with Narcissa following her.

"Freya, you have to get your wand."

From the edge of his vision he watched Freya whirl around to look at Narcissa, her eyes blazing with contempt.

"I don't _want_ it," she hissed, glancing at Nott and then at Aldrich. "I don't want _any_ of it."

* * *

Edric's mind was racing to the point of pain and he felt as though it may cease to work all together. Between his sister and his mother, seeing sides of them he had never seen or wanted to see and revealing pasts he was heartbroken to witness, he wasn't sure he was able to bear it.

"I did suggest sessions," Adrian offered and Edric heard his wife hiss at him to let him have a moment, feeling her hand rub up his back as she tried to comfort him without overwhelming him further.

It was hard seeing his little sister perform such a heinous curse so intentionally at such a young age, it was hard to see her broken hearted, hard to see her so emotionally distraught, hard to know she had been cruelly branded in a way that other men were able to see at her pride's expense. It was hard seeing his mother's childhood, alarming to see her act out, shocking to see her murder another, and it killed him to see her reaction towards his father telling her what he had done to Nero Zabini.

Tortured women who he had left and abandoned over his own mistakes and desires. They deserved better than him, his mother a better son and his sisters a better brother. Even his wife deserved a better husband rather than a man who was haunted by his past and forced her into seclusion and a life of wariness. He wished he could make it up to all of them, pay for his mistakes to them, _fix_ it all. There was nothing. Nothing he could do, and all of the women in his life hated him except for his wife, who he wouldn't survive without should she ever grow tired of putting up with him.

"I have more to show you so I don't know how long you want to take a breather for. I could come back if that would help, but I think you definitely want to see the rest."

"Hopefully you'll have something happy to show me, Pucey," Edric ground out, closing his eyes to gather himself.

"Eh.. It's.. I don't know if I'd say _happy_ , but interesting. Actually, yeah kind of happy for you. The exciting part is only _I_ know about it. Draco wasn't in the room," Pucey said smugly and Edric took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face.

That's right. There were now so many witnesses to his family's secrets, to their vulnerabilities. It was such an invasion, he even felt as though he was shoving into his sister and mother's privacy watching the memories even as a member of their family. It was difficult to think that others knew, others who had no right to know.

"Just get on with it," he said, waving his hand toward his Pensieve tiredly.

"I think Ophelia should watch too," he suggested, waving her over from where she had allowed them space again.

"Why?" She asked, looking at Edric for confirmation that it was alright. "I don't want to impose."

"It's fine, Ophelia. Come over," he said, impatient to finish the rest of what Pucey had to show him.

She complied and Pucey spilt the silvery memories into the Pensieve, stepping away once he was finished.

Freya Krat, youthful and beautiful in her teen years, was pressing her face into the side of a man's neck to muffle her laughter, her eyes glittering as she pulled away to look up at him.

"C'mon, Abe. You can't spend all your damn time with her. Where've your balls gone? She's got 'em now!" A man, dark skinned like the man kissing Freya's face, crowed to him from a group of men all dressed in an obvious foreign muggle fashion.

"Go be with your friends, Abraham. I'll go back to your room," Freya said, attempting to pull away but the man, Abraham, pulled her back into his thick arms.

"Abraham, am I? Okay then, mama. If I go out with them they'll just want me to drink, and I remember the look on your face the last time I was drunk. Don't want to see that look again," he said gently, watching her eyes honestly.

Freya's face softened and she shook her head. "No, it's alright.. I can deal with it. It's my own silliness, and your friends will begin to truly dislike me if I make you boring."

Abraham took her face into his hands, searching her eyes for a moment. "You're my girl, Freya. I care about what you want first thing, and I don't give a damn if they think I'm boring. If you don't care for me drinkin', then hell I don't need to touch another bottle for the rest of my days. I wouldn't mind you tellin' me about those demons though, you know I'm here for you. I just need to know."

Freya watched him for a long time before leaning up to kiss his mouth before kissing him again on the side of his forehead, ignoring the sweat on his skin. "Don't get drunk, but still go with them. I'll be in your bed waiting for you, and then we can talk."

"Woman, you know damn well no conversation is gonna get finished when you're 'in bed waiting for me'," he growled, his hands drawing around her waist to the small of her back.

"That's on you, not me," she quipped, smirking up at him slightly. "Faith will be back soon. I'll spend time with her."

Abraham shook his head, looking down at her with adoration. "You said you didn't think you were very maternal once, but I've never seen my sister so happy to be 'round someone in my life."

The memory dissolved into the next, the scene replacing itself from the odd, unfamiliar setting with Hogwarts.

Freya walked swiftly through the halls, her stance tall as she made her way through the students, skipping back a few steps when books were strewn in her path by a few fourth year Slytherins taunting a tearful, redheaded first year Gryffindor. Another first year stood near her, recognizable as Severus Snape as well as what the other Slytherins addressing him as, who seemed to appear to be laughing along with the taunting fourth years until they cleared. Freya closed her eyes in irritation as the girl began to shakily gather her things before Freya raised her wand to gather them together herself, shoving the pile into the young girl's hands.

"Stop crying. You look pathetic," she hissed. "And don't expect your little friend to ever come to your defenses, so start learning to defend yourself." She directed her attention on the boy as she straightened, regarding him coldly as he sheepishly looked at the girl with apologetic eyes. "If you care about your _friend_ you'll stop pretending to be as much. These little things don't have happy endings, especially when you seem to be attempting to run with those who _actually_ matter in this house, you miserable little half-blood."

Freya left the two first years promptly after her advice, her steps faltering when she saw Rhys Pucey watching her with raised eyebrows.

"Well.. What the fuck was that?" He asked, falling in pace with her as he walked beside her and she lifted her chin as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Rhys."

"You know, that little mudblood you came to the rescue for could be one of your fiancé's future victims"

Freya's face flickered with a look of disturbance and she glanced at him, appearing slightly upset at his words before she gathered her face together again.

"Ah.. Calm down. Didn't know you cared, Freya. Beginning to realize that you're going to be married to a man who slaughters women and children?"

Freya turned into a less populated corridor, her eyes shining with what seemed to be gathering tears as she ignored him, her jaw clenching and unclenching in her stressed expression.

"Are you _crying_?!" Rhys demanded, bewildered.

The next brief memory was of Edric who was standing with tears falling from his eyes as his mother walked away from him, her cold expression fading once she was no longer facing him into a small smile that only last for a few moments before her face crumbled into bittersweet sadness, tears streaming from her own face as she began to mourn the son she was leaving behind.

Edric stepped back from the Pensieve, a new form of shock flowing wildly through him as he looked at Pucey in confusion. "What..? What was that?" He asked breathlessly. "Who was that?"

Yes, sessions would have been the preferred idea, Pucey had been correct in that.

"Not a fucking wizard I'll tell you that much."

* * *

"Joseph! We were _just_ talking about you!" Freya said enthusiastically when Joseph Nott strode in, his eyelids drooping irritably at the sight of the Aurors who looked up at him warily, the two beside Granger looking confused as Granger's eyes filled with suspicion. "How convenient that you've decided to join us."

"You've only had positive things to say, I'm sure," he drawled, glancing at Freya.

"Is there anything but positive things to say about you, Joseph?" Freya asked innocently.

"Ask that question about yourself and you'll have your answer, Freya."

Freya tsked loudly. "Surely you must think more highly of yourself than that."

"I wonder why you all seem to meet, Malfoy," Granger said accusingly, eyeing Nott. "He's much too old to be considered your _friend_."

Now he was allowed to have others enter Malfoy Manor without the bitch accusing him, when would his freedom be returned to him? He was beginning to believe he'd forever be haunted by Potter and his sidekicks.

"I practically lived here, little girl. I'm only fetching something. Ignore me, as I don't need an extra fill of interrogations," he replied to her irritably, attempting to leave the room.

"Amy can follow you while you're fetching whatever it is," Granger said firmly, nudging the small Auror beside her.

Nott paused for a few moments before turning around to sit himself in an armchair, crossing one of his legs over his knee as he stared at the Aurors coldly. Nott had placed a few select items in Draco's home in with the rest of the Malfoy's large collection of dark magical objects as the Nott home was still being searched for illegal items, where Malfoy Manor had already gone through that multiple times, and the Aurors had not been able to find the hidden items in the Manor.

"No need," he said coolly, glancing at Freya before raising an eyebrow. "If you wanted to interrogate Freya I could have simply answered any questions you have about her and you would have avoided her unpleasant attitude."

"Well.." The smaller Auror began, biting her lip as she thought of a question to humor him. "If that's true then.. What's her favorite dessert?"

Draco snorted at her, grabbing Astoria's hand, flipping it so her palm was facing up as he traced the lines of it, enjoying the softness of her skin under his touch as he allowed the Aurors to be distracted by someone other than himself. Astoria was quiet as she usually was unless she was being spoken to or if she felt the need to interject and add a comment to reassure the Aurors that they didn't hate them even though they did.

"Not that you'll ever catch her eating dessert, but Eton mess," Joseph said indifferently, raising an eyebrow at the Auror.

"Wow," Freya cooed. "It's so sweet how you know me so well. When does my fan club get together? I know your wife is most likely in charge of the meetings."

"Oh, are you friends with his wife, Mrs. Greengrass? We are a bit worried about her, as Novalie says that she is a heavy alcoholic and seems to have severe depression. She could probably use a friend right about now," Granger said, eyeing Nott accusingly.

"Oh, yes. The best of, actually. It's very concerning, her condition. I'm sure she's quite lonely as well, especially when you consider her husband's infidelity issue.."

"Ah, and I suppose _I'm_ to blame for Sylvia's problems, am I? Hmm? Perhaps you should look at the woman who relentlessly tormented her throughout her youth," Nott snorted.

"And who was the one who _aided_ her torment, Josie? What does that make you?"

"Getting to that, love," Nott replied, smiling without humor at Freya. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Yes, that makes me an accomplice, and of course it's interesting how such an unlikely bride would end up being married to _me_ , the man who 'aided' her tormenter, isn't it? I wonder who made sure things would end up that way?"

"I just _love_ receiving credit for my work," Freya expressed smugly, a wide smirk spreading across her features.

"You bullied Mrs. Nott at Hogwarts?" Granger asked, frowning in her disappointment.

Would Granger ever learn? His wife's mother had practically outright admitted to being an evil cunt, yet here Granger was acting surprised she had been unkind to other girls at school. Draco turned Astoria's hand over as he continued to only pay half of his attention to the exchange, bringing her hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it, surprising himself in his action. Astoria took this as an opportunity to move close enough to him so that the side of her body was firmly pressed into his side. He draped his arm around the back of the couch, his arm lightly touching her shoulders in a small display of acceptance for her desire to be so close to him.

"No. She started something with me and was incapable of finishing it," Freya said simply. "It is not my problem that she was an idiot in thinking that she ever could."

"Well.. Mr. Nott I still think you could help your wife through her troubles. She _is_ your wife after all."

"So grateful for your _thoughts_ that I do not recall asking for, I'll keep them in mind, but for the record it's not my job to fix women's problems," Joseph said flatly. "Even when Freya was starving herself _I_ was expected to do something about it."

"Miss Granger, I actually do have something I'd like to bring up, seeing as you can't do much with my information on Joseph's past as a Death Eater. I _will_ say it's rather peculiar that my family's property was destroyed _just_ around the time I was marrying another man.."

Joseph narrowed his eyes into slits at the witch who was leaning towards Granger with intent as she told her her suspicions. "Are you fucking kidding me, Freya," he snarled.

Draco had to keep from snickering at the woman, knowing full well who was behind the destruction just as Nott did. He snorted slightly as he had to hold in his laughter after seeing Astoria's expression at her mother's words.

"Mr. Nott. Please control your temper," Granger said firmly, sitting up straight as she poised herself to draw her wand at his tone.

"No worries. Joseph acts like he could hurt me but he would _never._ He's rather two-faced in that way."

Joseph began to splutter with laughter, his eyes meeting Draco's as he shook his head in disbelief. "You're calling me two-faced? Look in a bloody mirror, Freya. No woman from our circle is in _any_ position to be calling anyone two-faced."

"Hermione, I apologize if you're feeling threatened in our home, but this is not unusual behavior," Astoria broke in assuringly as Granger still watched him with her body tense. "Everything is alright."

Joseph motioned towards Astoria in an exaggerated movement. "Thank you for proving my point, Astoria. I appreciate your assistance."

Draco chuckled in response, rolling his eyes at his wife's scowl in response to Nott implying she was two-faced, though she was the definition of the term.

"Going further than that, my old friend," Joseph sneered through his amusement. "Here you sit, in that uptight outfit, wearing _pearls_ of all jewelry when we both know you detest pearls, pretending to drink when we both know you can't fucking stand alcohol, putting on that pleasant voice that doesn't fit the highly inappropriate things you say, all while acting like you actually have a fondness for your husband that you really despise. So, while you're reconsidering calling someone other than yourself two-faced also consider whether or not your adorable little revenge on me was worth it, sweetheart."

"It wasn't," Freya replied with a smile, seeming unfazed by the rest of his comments.

Joseph's reply was cut off as he realized her words, staring at her with a hard expression for a few moments. "I don't even know how to take that seeing as you could just be saying that because you know it's the worst and most cruel thing you could admit to either of us and you always have to get the last dig, don't you?"

"Naturally."

Once all of them had gone, leaving Astoria and Draco to themselves, both of them were sat at the dining room table for dinner, his wife ranting about the events of the meeting.

"I preferred when they didn't talk," Astoria commented, frowning. "They went years and years without talking, so why start now? Actually, it's rare that I ever seen my mother interacting with others when my father isn't around. She isn't the best at it."

"I found it rather amusing, actually."

Astoria sighed, though it sounded as if she was holding back a huff, taking a drink of her water. "I'm not sure whether to be offended or not that she practically admitted to not wanting to be married to my father, also meaning Daphne and I wouldn't exist. That's not very motherly of her, and also I cannot believe she would admit something so disrespectful out loud. That's _beyond_ shameful to our name, and whether or not the Aurors are anyone important, it's still unacceptable for her to say such things. Imagine if I said that about _our_ marriage!"

"You did say that when you went and rubbed yourself against another man. Besides, she hardly admitted to not wanting to be married to your father. You're being a bit dramatic as well as hypocritical," he muttered, though he knew full well that's exactly what she had done.

And had it been Astoria, he would have been blinded with fury, he knew that as well.

"Well. Let's hope father doesn't decide to go through all of the details of what she did when he was away, otherwise I fear for her fate," Astoria mumbled, cutting her food as she scowled at it.

"I'd be more concerned with the fact that Nott was nearly your brother."

He caught her withering expression before she covered it, focusing her attention on her food to hide the bit of displayed attitude. "I believe I preferred when you were absent from the Auror meetings. I can't handle your fake nonsense with them," he went on. "It drives me mad."

"I thought you'd like it better, seeing as you don't have to talk as much," she replied. "It is my role as the wife to appear polite and hospitable, not that I can do that properly when you refuse to allow me to offer them something as simple as tea."

"You are to appear polite and hospitable to our people, not _them._ You'd never catch my mother extending her pleasantries to their kind," Draco replied, wrinkling his nose slightly as he imagined his own mother's facial expression towards such people.

"Well, I'm not your mother, and my family is a bit different than yours. I would take into consideration how the Aurors spoke of my father as opposed to how they spoke of yours. Obviously, we have an idea of what we're.." She trailed off when she noticed his face, pressing her lips together as she quieted herself.

"Mhm. That's what I thought, love. I don't need idiots going around fawning over me to lead a decent life either, Though believe me plenty of women still do, and I don't even have to pretend to be nice. Imagine that."

"Yes, that _was_ rather irritating," she said, wrinkling her nose herself. "I prefer not to think of young women fantasizing about my father."

"You're a young woman," he said pointedly.

"What?"

"I'm sure _you_ fantasize about him, given the way you practically worship him."

He heard Astoria's silverware clatter and he looked up to find her beside herself in her disgust at his comment, much to his extreme amusement. "That is the _nastiest_ , most _vulgar_ thing you could possibly say to me, Draco," she breathed, fuming slightly with a bit of a disgusted whine in her tone in her repulsion. "Don't ever suggest anything like that again!"

"So many possibilities of incest surrounding you," he mused, rather fond of her when she was a bit riled up.

"I believe that's your family's area of expertise," she growled in return, narrowing her eyes at him slightly.

"Welcome to the family," he replied, unfazed by her attempt to get the better of him as he smirked at her. "You obviously fit in quite nicely."


	48. Chapter 48

"Draco?"

Draco looked up from his desk to see Astoria in the doorway watching him expectantly before glancing around the walls of his office.

"Astoria," he replied, blinking slowly at her.

She normally did not bother him when he was in his office, not that he was doing anything terribly important, but he did prefer to have his peace while he was in there. She took his response as an invitation to come in and she walked over quietly to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk, her feet making no sound in the silent room as she looked around nosily.

"May I help you?"

"What's your favorite dessert?" She asked, tilting her head at him.

He felt his eyebrows pull together curiously before giving her a considerate frown, amused at her question. It seemed she had been inspired by the idiot Auror from earlier. "Custard I suppose."

"That's rather simple," she mused thoughtfully.

"Insulting my dessert of choice? Quite rude of you," he sniffed light-heartedly.

She smiled, genuinely, and his gaze caught on the expression, enjoying the authenticity after growing used to her false, plastered smiles that she gave to others such as the Aurors. "No. Simple is good. Though I had expected something more creative seeing as your family has a habit of being.. ostentatious."

"Ostentatious?" He repeated, scoffing. "And where do you gather that?"

She bit into her bottom lip, still smiling. His eyes fell to her mouth, a small part of him stirring at the sight of her teeth pressing into the pink, soft skin. "Your father has tied his hair with a bow in the past, and that walking stick.." Her mouth grew tense as she held back a laugh and ducked her face. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to offend you."

"That walking stick hurt like a bitch. Imagine being smacked with it all of the time, especially as a child. The teeth of the snake were like knives. I have to say I wasn't terribly upset when the Dark Lord broke it," he said, shaking his head as he remembered all of the times he had been wounded with the thing, ignoring the memories of darkness relating to it being broken.

"Perhaps you need one of your own. Don't you want to grow your hair out as well? I can braid it like how I braid my own. Based on the paintings in your home it seems like a common Malfoy trend.." She trailed off, appearing to be holding back another giggle.

"That's quite alright," he said flatly. "I have no desire to grow out my hair."

"Well, the offer still stands if you ever change your mind," she replied, her voice almost singsong.

"Noted."

"Am I distracting you?" She asked after a bit of silence.

"Yes," he answered. "Obviously, seeing as you're striking up conversation with me and I'm required to pay attention."

"You're not _required_ to. You're the man. The boss. You could ignore me if you really wanted to," she said softly.

"Mmm."

"Your eyes are almost silver," she told him, her eyes observing his in admiration. "I really like them."

"Are you attempting to _woo_ me, love? Romance me?" He snorted, surprised at her odd compliment.

"As your wife I feel compelled to stroke your ego, though I do believe it is in perfect condition without my help considering the comments you made today about your sexual relations with many girls."

"Careful. I may begin to fall under the impression that you're jealous."

"Do you want me to be jealous?"

"You and I both know that you have no reason to be, and I prefer you not to be insecure. Though I'm sure it would amuse me to see it occasionally."

"Hmm," she said, tilting her nose up. "Well I'm not. We have been over this."

"That we have, and then you attacked Pansy."

"Parkinson was speaking out of line. It had nothing to do with jealousy."

"You speak out of line at times," he told her, his eyes skimming down her neck and over her collarbones, distracting himself with his sudden desire to drag his teeth over the skin there.

"It's my house," she said confidently.

"It's _my_ house, just as you are _my_ woman," he said, a thin blanket of pride as well as a bit of lust settling over him for her at her sure words.

"Yes. I'm your wife. Meaning this is my house, as it will be the house I raise my children in," she responded, still just as sure of herself.

"Our children," he corrected, watching her eyes as they unfocused themselves with a glaze of fondness as she seemed to imagine the idea. "Not now."

"Hmm?" She asked, her eyes refocusing on him.

"No children now."

She scowled. "I don't want to be an old mother."

"I truly can't imagine you _old._ Besides, you're barely seventeen."

"My mother began having her children around my age," she argued before her face fell slightly, looking down.

"Ah, yes. Your mother. Very maternal, that one," he said dryly, ignoring her reference to her family member that wasn't meant to be acknowledged as someone that existed anymore.

"Do you think I will be?"

"Judging by your facial expression and how eager you seem I'd say you will be adequate," he offered, not completely sure.

"If I'm being honest I was just thinking about how I will be able to satisfy you as your wife by providing you an heir," she told him, her voice clear.

Draco didn't know how to respond to her confession admitting to being more eager to possibly gain more respect from him than to actually interact with their children themselves. A part of him felt guilty that she felt as though that was the only way to gain his proper satisfaction with her seeing that she had already surpassed his expectations on what he would feel for his wife or what their relationship would be like. He certainly didn't expect to be sharing the same room every night even when they weren't having sex, nor did he expect to become borderline infatuated with her. Not to mention how interested he had gotten in her past and her family, though he supposed he would be interested either way in such secrets, even if he didn't want to fully admit it to himself that he cared about secrets and gossip like a female. However, he also never expected to deal with the pain and betrayal she had brought upon him or the insecurities when it came to simply feeling good enough for his own wife.

"And how are you sure that I will be satisfied with you then? Perhaps I'll _still_ find you lacking," he said after his mood darkened slightly at the last of his thoughts, his voice emotionless as he spoke.

She blinked and his breath caught as her face fell and her eyes dropped to her lap, her shoulders lowering slightly.

"Hmm?" He pressed, feeling a bit as if he was prodding at a dog's broken leg.

"Why are you so mean to me?" She asked quietly, her voice much too gentle and fragile for his own sanity.

Fuck, why did she have to play that way?  
"I'm not being _mean_ to you, Astoria." He had meant to sound firm, but his voice came out in more of a murmur than anything.

Her shoulders dropped more and she stared down for a few moments before she stood, turning around to exit the room.

"I didn't dismiss you."

She stopped, turning around to look at him with sad eyes. "May I go?"

"Why do you want to leave?"

"You just seem as if you don't want me in here," she answered, her voice small.

"I never said that. Come over to me," he commanded, waiting for her as she complied, pulling her into his lap when she was close enough after she had walked around his desk.

She allowed him to navigate her so she was seated across his legs, adjusting herself so she was sitting up as tall as she could manage, looking down at him with the same pitiful expression. "How can you believe I'm mean to you when I allow you to sleep nearly eighteen hours?"

"I do _not_ sleep eighteen hours," she responded, her eyes changing from sad to almost defiant. "That's an extreme exaggeration."

He snorted, tugging her hair down from it's unnecessarily tight updo, feeling a small amount of satisfaction when her hair tumbled down to frame her face. "Nearly eighteen."

She was quiet for a while, considering his expression and demeanor before she spoke again. She seemed to decide to move on from her hurt feelings and and accept the situation instead of pressing it more.

"I kissed you last night," she announced.

Draco raised a slow eyebrow, leaning back slightly to watch her. "What?"

"I did. While you were sleeping," she said matter-of-factly.

".. Alright," he replied, fighting a smirk at her comical announcement.

"Yes. You look a lot sweeter when you're asleep."

"So should I take it that you'll only kiss me when I'm not awake to consent?" He drawled, taking a piece of her hair between her fingers to play with it. He looked _sweet_ to her, did he? Did she have any idea how she appeared to him?

No, not likely. He wasn't one to sit around complimenting her all day, was he?

She considered this, looking upwards as she did. She looked back down at him before he watched her gaze drop to his lips, hesitation in her eyes. He waited, amused at the uncertainty and innocence of her actions as she clearly and openly thought about kissing him as she stared shamelessly at his mouth, clearly shy and inexperienced though they had kissed and gone well past that before. It was the kind of look and hesitation two young teenagers would hold during their first kiss, and it was incredibly endearing to him that she didn't pretend to act as if she was some confident lover as did more than a few women he had been with had attempted to pretend. He didn't say anything as she looked up between his lips and his eyes, seeming to be waiting for his direction or his command. No, if she wanted to kiss him she was fully capable of doing that herself. Apparently she already had, according to her little confession.

Finally she leaned forward enough to press her lips against his, her hands coming up to hold his face lightly as if she feared she would damage him if she were to properly grab him in her hands. He didn't move to escalate the intimacy, only responding appropriately as she began to move her mouth against his, brushing it back and forth sweetly before closing her lips over his lower lip. It was difficult to not feel weakened by her softness in such moments, in her tenderness as she explored him, her mouth much too warm and welcoming as she kissed him. It became harder not to take matters into his own hands when he felt her tongue touch gently against his lip, running against it before she broke her curious kiss to pull back and look at him, nearly eliciting a groan from him.

The little tease.

His stomach twisted oddly as he looked back at her face, so sincere and open with him as she searched his features, her own face lifted slightly with contentment, seemingly pleased with their kiss.

"No," she said finally.

"No?" He questioned, resuming his attentions on the piece of her hair, accepting that she was finished kissing him for now.

"I won't only kiss you when you're not awake to consent."

He felt the corners of his mouth lift up into a small smile, nodding in response. "So I've been shown."

She moved to sink lower in his lap so she could adjust herself to resting the side of her head against his shoulder, getting comfortable against him in his lap. "Draco?"

He rolled his eyes, naturally gathering his arms around her to hold her as she leaned against him. "What."

"Do you think I'm boring?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Daphne's friends always called me boring, and I suppose I never did much that was very exciting. Not that I was _supposed_ to, not that any of them were supposed to. Well, most of them. She had a few questionable friends," she said, distaste in her voice.

"You've claimed to have _no_ friends. That does sound boring," he replied fairly, not that he would ever expect an exciting woman to become his wife. Exciting women were never considered suitable wives.

"I did have one actually."

"Ah, yes. Still going with the claim that Braden Naylor was your friend?"

"I.. Suppose," she said slowly, seeming to decide for herself whether it was true or not.

"Should I be worried that there is yet another man out there feeling as if he has a claim on what is mine?"

"No, nothing like that," she told him, shaking her head against him.

"Then I don't suppose you'd mind if I looked?" He inquired, coiling more of her hair around his finger.

".. No.. I don't mind," she replied sheepishly, her tone reluctant.

He stopped, gauging her her reaction suspiciously before slipping into her head, searching for memories of the wizard.

Fourth year Astoria sat at a desk in the library, glaring at her books tiredly as she flipped through the pages, not seeming to read them as she grumpily looked through them.

"Come on, baby snake. Why don't you come play with us instead of sitting there all by yourself being boring?" A Gryffindor boy asked as a group of them passed her table, grinning at her as a mischievous glint flashed in his eye. "I bet we are much more fun than the gits in Slytherin. Why not give a chance, beautiful?"

"Sorry, but the _baby snake_ is obviously too busy for cheesy, unoriginal idiots such as yourselves," Braden Naylor snorted, dropping his own books down on the table before sitting across from Astoria, staring at the group of boys until they left, sneering at Naylor as they did. "You look tired there, Greengrass."

She sighed, slamming her book shut in her frustration before shoving it away. "Only a bit," she grumbled, watching the boys retreat. "Thank you for making them go away. You didn't have to do that. You don't have to stay with me, really. I don't think they will be back."

"Yeah, I did have to do it. Look after our own and all that, remember?"

She nodded slowly, looking appreciative as her eyes wandered over his books. "I believe I may end up with horribly terrible marks in Potions," she announced. "Then my parents will kill me and my sister will never shut up about it. Truly, never."

"Well you wouldn't be alive to hear her go on about it if your parents killed you, now would you? And I wish I could be nice and relate, but I'm doing excellent in Potions," he replied, smiling up at her apologetically as he sorted through his homework.

"That's alright. Boast when you can in life, I suppose," she said, reading one of the titles of his books, before tilting her head slowly as she thought. "Do you want to work for the Ministry then?" She asked, motioning towards one of his books.

"Don't most want to work for the Ministry? Well, perhaps not you, and I can't say my parents are the most thrilled about the field I'm interested in, but yes to the question you are asking," he told her, looking up to meet her eyes curiously.

"My father has good connections in the Ministry," she told him, an odd look crossing into her eyes.

"Ah. Boast when you can in life. Got it," he replied as he nodded to her, opening one of his books.

"I need a flawless grade in Potions," she said firmly, sitting up higher as she watched him with intention, waiting for him to respond in the way she wanted him to.

He stopped, considering her words before smirking up at her.

"I see."

Draco couldn't help but snicker at the expression on his wife's face when he retracted from her head. "You cheated your way through Potions? And here you were having everyone fooled that you were this perfect good girl with perfect grades, having my _mother_ fooled."

"Draco. It was only Potions," she grumbled, shifting irritably in his lap. "No need to make a big fuss about it."

"You _bribed_ Naylor to do your work for you. To cheat for you," he tsked.

"No. I offered an exchange," she quipped back.

"Not sure I would count that as a friendship, love," he said, still fully amused.

"Why not? Are you unaware of how our house works?" She asked defensively, moving back so her face was hidden from him once more as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Not at all, though for some reason I didn't expect you to know. Foolish, seeing as you've proved what a snake you can be in the past," he mused.

"What is it with people and their unoriginal house references," she mumbled.

"What is it with you and your attitude?" He asked lightly, not truly irritated with it just yet.

She fell quiet, turning her face to press it into his shoulder, seeming embarrassed that her cheating had been exposed to him. He was sure his mother would have still approved even if she had slipped in a few subjects, she had forgiven her for cheating on him with Nott of all things, though he was sure her parents would have been furious, and he was quite sure her sister would go mental if she knew, knowing how Daphne was.

"Draco?"


	49. Chapter 49

Draco stared down at his now sleeping wife, petting her head as if she were his cat. It felt that way at times when she would curl up on him like this, soft and small. His hand on her head slowed as her screams during her nightmares when he had kicked her out of his bedroom to isolate her infiltrated his thoughts, cloaking his conscience with guilt.

No, he would not feel guilty.

A small period of torture and loneliness was nothing compared to what could have been, what others would have done. It was a small price, and now here she was cuddled up in his embrace as if nothing had happened. Her sentence had been short. She was _fine_ , and he wouldn't allow the nature of her to manipulate him into feeling guilty for being angry with his cheating wife as any man would.

Draco pushed himself into her head, sorting through the memories there that were more fresh in her thoughts. She didn't seem to linger on the past very often, and when she did her memories were mostly mundane and basic. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know the memories that she tucked away so deeply in her mind in order for them to be forgotten. He settled on a scene between her and her father as her father was just apparating her home from a more public situation, though Draco didn't gather what situation exactly.

Aldrich Greengrass took his young daughter's face in one hand gingerly, tilting it to the side as he examined the blood there, his eyes being the only thing that changed as he assessed his damaged child as they darkened at the sight.  
"The half-blood Death Eater hit me, father," Astoria explained, her voice emotionless and clear. "Mr. Nott stopped him from bothering me further. I-"

Aldrich held up his hand for her to stop and both of them went silent as the man looked in his child's head himself, a gentle laugh falling from his mouth as he released her chin when he was finished. He knelt beside her, squatting in front of her as he stroked the top of her head, looking into her eyes levelly.

"He won't be putting his hands on you again, Astoria," he told her, his voice careful and level.

He led her into his bathroom, wetting a washrag to gently wash the dried blood on her face. Astoria winced ever so slightly, murmuring her apologies when she did and he called for their house-elf to bring some healing potions. "You didn't even cry, my sweet child. You are better than crying under a half-blood's hand. I am proud of you, though you shouldn't have been caught in the first place."

"I am sorry, father," she replied, her bruising face ashamed. "I didn't mean to."

"It was bound to happen, no?" He said thoughtfully. "This mistake will help you learn. You were lucky Nott was there and was kind enough to stand up to a member of his own for you. Not all of them are civilized, obviously. Not all of them are like us. They will hurt you, and some will rape you if they get the chance."

Astoria nodded in small movements, her eyes fearful at his blunt words. "Yes, father."

"And now," he said, his voice slightly scolding but lighthearted. "I owe Nott of all people for protecting you. That's not something I'm excited about whatsoever."

"His son is my friend."

"You do not have friends, Astoria, especially not male friends."

"Mr. Malfoy did not help me," Astoria said curiously. "Actually, he seemed annoyed that Mr. Nott was."

"Color me shocked."

"Are you being sarcastic?" She asked.

The corner of Aldrich's mouth twitched with amusement. "Yes, I'm being sarcastic. Lucius Malfoy does not like me."

"Why not?"

"Several reasons."

"I have been told that Mr. Nott doesn't like us either though," she said, glancing at the elf that popped in. "And he helped me."

"Nott is not as foolish as Malfoy. Malfoy hasn't seemed all too happy as it is, most likely because the Death Eaters have been stirring as of late. He doesn't seem too keen to begin participating once more with his idiotic endeavors he began in his youth." Aldrich took the potions from the elf, tending to his daughter carefully.

Astoria was quiet for a while as she was still for her father, thinking as she stared past him. "Do you think I should have not spoken out so boldly to that man?" She asked him timidly, watching him with an almost embarrassed expression. "Perhaps he wouldn't have struck me."

"We never shrink to those who are less than us, and you will never cower to anyone who isn't an elder of your family, a male of your family, or your husband. Yes, you should learn when to hold your tongue in certain situations, but I believe you behaved appropriately. As I said, I'm proud of you," he said, his tone slightly soothing.

Draco was yanked back to his current surroundings when their was a large, low sound that vibrated throughout the floors of the Manor. Astoria was looking around wildly, her bright eyes large with fear and confusion. His own fear was pushed down a bit at the sight of her as the urgency to protect her became stronger than his other feelings and he sat up, disapparating them both from his office to his bedroom. "Stay in here," he ordered.

"Wait!" She protested frantically, grabbing onto his arm. "Don't go outside.. Just stay in here.."

"I have to look," he said, pulling his arm from her grasp. "Stay. In. Here."

"Draco," she whimpered, glancing at the balcony doors to make sure they were closed, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivered. "Please."

"I would know if anyone got through, and no major wards were touched. Again, I would know. It will be fine, and I will be back. I'm sure it was just something small and we are overreacting."

"Can't you have the house-elf check then? And you can look in the morning? If it was nothing major?" She pleaded, moving forward to clutch onto him again.

He hesitated, considering this before inhaling through his nose irritably as he looked down onto her hold on him. He called for the elf as his wife had suggested, annoyed that it hadn't already come to him in result of the sound, ordering it to inspect the wards and grounds of the home and to inform him if it found anything suspicious or out of the ordinary.

Astoria let out a breath in relief, looking up at him thankfully. "I don't want you to leave me."

"I have to protect us, Astoria," he said, his voice emotionless as he watched her.

She only kept getting her way.

"I know.. You will.. But you said it was nothing."

"Exactly. It was nothing. So you should be fine with me checking on my own home's wards."

The house-elf popped back in to report it finding nothing and Draco nodded slowly in response, not knowing whether or not that should make him feel better or worse.

"I'm afraid, Draco," Astoria said, her voice nearly a whisper as she stared off and past him as the elf left them once more.

A sharp chill ran down his spine as he remembered the same exact words, same expression, same tone from his own mother speaking to his father, and his father had been unable to do anything to protect her from her fears even though he had promised her that he would. Promised them both that he would.

"I know," he replied stiffly, not willing to make the same promises only to break them just as his father had. "I know."

She seemed to reason with herself and gather herself together before she promptly began to undress, going to slip on a nightgown in silence, appearing much calmer now after talking herself down. He decided to follow her actions similarly, as she seemed to have the desire to go to bed and not linger on this issue at this point based on her actions and expression. That was perfectly fine with him as the last thing he wanted to do was sit around and stress about it, unable to properly ease her mind as he had no way of knowing the outcome of everything that was going on. She was in danger, and it was his fault.

Well, it was the whole lot of their community being targeted, and perhaps the attempt at intrusion had not been related to the recent attacks at all. He supposed it wouldn't matter completely had he been a Death Eater or not, but he also knew it made him a special target. He also knew his wife had the same special target on her in result of being his wife and would receive the appropriate _special_ treatment. Her father had been right, if these Death Eaters were anything like the last then she would most definitely be raped, brutally raped and passed along like a new toy to be shared among the lot of them. When his family had become more and more of a disappoint to the Dark Lord, his mother had nearly been assaulted more than once by the more barbaric Death Eaters, but Bellatrix had been there to prevent it. Draco doubted he would be able to do much to prevent it should they be captured. He wouldn't be able to protect her, his own wife, and it was an absolute revolting thought to have. It was no wonder his father had lost himself. To not be able to look after one's wife, not to mention one's child, was the most terrifying and shameful feeling a man could have. His wife was his responsibility, and his pride resided in her no matter how little or large his cares were for her.

He joined her in bed, noticing how she seemed to give him space though it was clear she wanted to be close to him. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he tried to release some of the anxiety he was feeling. He shouldn't allow himself to become too emotionally attached to her if _those_ were the types of events that would be taking place. He felt her smooth leg brush against his and his jaw clenched for a while before he dragged her close to him. If he was not able to make her promises then he could at least provide her with a bit of comfort for the time being. He shivered as she practically burrowed herself into his chest, seeming to want to mold herself against him to make one person.

She didn't attempt to talk and press the matter, and for that he was grateful. She was usually good about not pushing him. He pulled the blankets over them, focusing on her body movements as she breathed, waiting for her to sleep before he attempted to himself.

Finally her breaths dropped into their resting pattern and he pressed his lips to her head before he fell into sleep himself.

* * *

"I don't want to keep meeting you in empty classrooms and broom cupboards," Edric told Ophelia firmly, locking his door behind him. "You deserve more than that."

"Was it worth all of the work sneaking me in here though?" She slightly grumbled, though her heart was fluttering in its elation at being brought to his room in the Head dorms. "Or worth the risk?"

"There was a risk either way, but yes we should be more careful after the incident with Wilkes. I had gotten a bit too lazy about precautions. You have a rather distracting effect on me unfortunately," he mused, removing his cloak.

Her eyes fell to his bed and she felt a lovely hum of adrenaline and warmth run through her, eager to be in a more relaxed and intimate setting with him again. She was distracted with the nagging confrontation she had been meaning to have with him and she straightened, changing her expression to accusing.

"You paid for my Apparition class. The instructor found me and told me somebody had paid for it. I know it was you."

"You're welcome."

"No. Edric? I won't let you do that. Get your money back. I can't just accept that. If my mum knew.." She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

She didn't want his money. That's not why she was with him, but she didn't particularly like the feeling of rejecting things from him when he had good intentions.

"I can't get it back. Besides, the effort it would take me wouldn't be worth the money. You truly have no idea how _little_ that amount of money is to me. Your mother doesn't have to know, and it's not as if I'm buying you senseless things. You need the class, and I know you want to be in it. Just go, love. Let me do that for you. I already feel guilty sneaking you around as if-" Edric cut off, looking frustrated with himself before shaking his head. "Please just go. Don't let pride get in the way of your education."

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. She truly did want to go to the class, and she didn't really have any other reason to say no besides pride as he said. The same pride that had been the reason for her and her mother's struggles her entire life, the reason why she wouldn't have been going to the class without Edric. "My mum really wouldn't like it."

"She doesn't have to know, and I would never hold it against you. It's just money, Ophelia."

"It's just money to _you._ You've always had it."

"I have," he agreed, nodding. "Which is why you should take it. It means more to you than it does to me. Besides, I put you in danger. It's only fair if you learn the skills to help you get out of dangerous situations. I want you to be able to protect yourself even after.." He trailed off, quieting as he sat on the side of his bed, avoiding her gaze.

Pain prodded at her chest as she finished his words for him in her head, reminded of how he was not truly hers to keep. It was hard to think of letting him go, and of course she couldn't help the bitter jealousy she felt imagining the wife he would take after Hogwarts. The perfect, gorgeous pure-blood woman that would be everything she wasn't, everything his parents would be all too thrilled with. She wouldn't be someone he would have to sneak around, wouldn't be someone he was ashamed of.

"Alright.. Alright I'll go to the class," she said finally, reluctantly. "But I swear to you, Edric. One day I _will_ win an argument. Don't think you're the boss just because you act like one. I put up with your egotistical attitude because you have a pretty face."

"A pretty face? That's why you put up with me? Here I was believing it was my flawless personality," he chuckled, motioning her towards him.

She scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly at his beckoning. "You give yourself too much credit. You can be quite the arsehole sometimes, you know that."

"You love me," he replied confidently. "Come here, won't you?"

"No," she sniffed, ignoring the odd jerk in her stomach when he mentioned the word "love" the way he had. "I don't think I will. Maybe when you say _please._ "

"Who am I talking to exactly? Astoria, is that you?"

"I'm not nearly as cute as your sister."

"My sister isn't cute. She's a terror. Now _please_ will you come here, love?"

She smiled and took off her shoes before walking over to him and into his arms as he laid them back on the bed, brushing her hair back behind her to expose the side of her neck. "From what I've seen your sister has you wrapped around her finger," she told him, adjusting herself against him comfortably.

"As if you don't?" He grumbled, running his hand down her neck and over her shoulder. "Besides, Astoria manages to get everyone wrapped around her finger."

"You think I have you wrapped around my finger?" She asked softly, wiggling closer to him, content.

"I know you do." He kissed her forehead gently, pulling the blankets up and settling them over them.

"I'll fall asleep," she said accusingly. "Don't do that."

"I want you to sleep here tonight."

"But that's-"

"Everyone is going to Hogsmeade tomorrow. It will be easy to sneak you back out."

"Aren't you meant to go? As Head Boy?" She asked cautiously, fully desiring to sleep with him in his bed tonight.

He shrugged, looping his arm around her waist. "I'm ill."

"You're not ill," she said flatly, giving him a dull look. "You're a horrendous Head Boy, I hope you know."

"The faculty would disagree," he said, smirking.

"Yes, well. I know the real you, and you're terrible."

He hummed and tugged her sweater up under the covers and she scowled at him. "Excuse you. I did not permit that."

"Would you like to sleep in your uniform?" He asked, his tone amused.

She rolled her eyes and tugged off her tie, wrapping it around his neck.

"Get your Ravenclaw mess off of me."

"I think it looks nice on you," she said, smiling. "You could have been a Ravenclaw."

"Absolutely not," he snorted, tossing her tie aside.

"Slytherins are _so_ touchy about other houses." She rolled her eyes, slipping off her skirt under the blankets. "Imagine if I were a Gryffindor. I doubt you would even touch me."

"If you were a Gryffindor you would act as one, and I would never be interested in a woman who acted that way. Now get some sleep," he replied, kissing her forehead again before slipping out of the bed. "I'm going to shower before I join you."

She inhaled in order to protest, but her preparation to argue turned into a yawn and she felt her eyelids droop, realizing how tired she actually was. "Kiss me first," she told him, snuggling closer into his pillows and his scent.

"Is that a demand?"

"Yes."

The bed dipped as he braced his hand against it and she tilted her face up for him as his mouth covered hers, kissing her slowly and sweetly before retracting much too soon.

"Thank you, Edric," she said sincerely. "For the class. I really do appreciate it."

"Anything you need, love," he said, his voice gentle. "Anything you want. I'll give it to you."

* * *

"Ophelia Rose! Why have you left the front door unlocked? Are you mad?!" Edric froze beside Ophelia in her kitchen at the sound of her mother's voice. He was at her house just as the Spring holiday break had begun, talking with her in her kitchen as they had gone down for something to drink.

"She's home early," she groaned, her eyes darting around to look for a quick escape for him, not that he had the time at this point.

Her mother entered the kitchen, odd looking handbags in her arms. She stopped to stare at the both of them, her eyes moving back and forth between them before she dropped the bags onto the counter space, horror touching her eyes for just a small moment.

"Mum. This is-"

"The boy from the book shop. The boy you were getting into fights over," her mother finished, staring at him with cold eyes.

"Well.. Yes and no. We weren't fighting over _him,_ " Ophelia said slowly, looking at Edric apologetically and a bit nervously as if he'd go off on the muggle woman or storm out. "His name is Edric."

"Ms. Hale, I am more than pleased to finally meet you. I am so sorry that I am in your home against your knowledge, and I'm more embarrassed than I can express to you. I also want to apologize for what Ophelia went through with Charlotte. It was not her fault, and I can assure you that," he expressed to her mother sincerely, walking forward to extend his hand. "I'm Edric Greengrass. I've been seeing your daughter since this recent summer. She is also my Astronomy partner, and a brilliant partner at that. You have a very intelligent daughter."

Her mother's eyes flickered down to his offered hand before she inhaled deeply and took it. "Gwendolyn," she told him, giving Ophelia a look when he kissed her hand respectfully.

"I don't blame _you_ for being here without me knowing. I'm sure you had little control over my daughter attempting to go behind my back and sneak you in and out," she quipped, turning to her bags and away from him. "Help me with the groceries, Ophelia."

Ophelia went forward obediently and began putting the food away in the chilled box, both of them uncomfortably silent.

"So you're Ophelia's boyfriend then, are you?" Gwendolyn asked when she was finished, bracing her hands on the counter as she looked at him again.

"I am," he confirmed, not planning on upsetting the woman in any way by announcing the true nature of their relationship.

Not that he was entirely sure _what_ the nature of their relationship was, seeing as they were far from having sex every time they saw each other, and he looked at her as if she was much more than just a shag.

"Well, I _wonder_ why I haven't met you sooner."

"I believe your daughter wishes to present you with a man much more worthy of her company. She sees me as a spoiled, 'pretty face'. Or so she has told me," he told her lightheartedly, smiling at Ophelia.

"Hmm. More like she believes that's how _I'd_ see you," her mother grumbled, shaking her head. "So, your parents won't miss you for Easter?"

"Ah. No, Ms. Hale. We don't celebrate it."

"Is that not something magical people celebrate..? The school gives breaks for it, no?" She asked, confused.

"They do." He nodded. "But those who do have integrated muggle traditions and religions due to marriage and mixture of culture. My family and families like mine will participate in some activities such as attending certain events and occasionally exchanging gifts, but the holidays don't mean anything to us."

"Muggle traditions due to marriage," She repeated. "So you're.. A pure-blood then?"

"Yes. One of the cleanest lines."

"Clean," she said flatly. "How lovely. Yes, Ophelia has told me about your type. So you don't intermix then? Does that mean your family is purely English as well? I know the upper class are particular about that sort of thing."

He could only imagine what Ophelia had told her about "his type" based on how he had seen some of his housemates treat her.

"No, not nearly. My mother is German, and the Greengrass family has a fair amount of Polish down the line as well, among other things I'm sure."

"Huh.. Interesting. Do you know Violet then? She's a pure-blood."

"I've known Violet for a very long time." Unfortunately.

"She's.. A loyal friend," Gwendolyn said slowly.

"Mum hates Violet," Ophelia said dryly. "You two have something in common."

"I do not _hate_ your friend. I feel the way she acts questionable at times, but I do not hate her."

"I'd have to agree," he said smoothly. "She has a reputation of being inappropriate."

"As inappropriate as getting in fights at school over a boy?" Her mother sniffed, looking at her daughter.

"It wasn't over him. I don't know how many times I have to say it."

"Technically it was over me," he said fairly. "I am not set to marry Charlotte anymore because of your words, and that is why she began attacking you."

"At least he knows whose side to take." Gwendolyn looked him up and down. "Am I meant to feed him dinner with us?"

"Oh, um.. I'm sure he has to get home soon.."

"I don't."

"Lovely. I suppose you'll stay for dinner then. Fix yourself up for it, Ophelia. Leave him here," she said firmly. "He doesn't need to be in your bedroom as you shower, though I'm not naive enough to believe that you two haven't been less than appropriate with each other already."

"Mum," Ophelia mumbled, appearing embarrassed. "Please don't."

"Go on," she replied shortly.

Ophelia threw Edric an apologetic glance before she left him there, alone with her mother.

Her mother regarded him blankly, and he noticed her jaw working as she watched him. He knew she was entirely uncomfortable and upset that he was involved with her daughter, and she had full reason to be.

He was going to break her heart, wasn't he?

But he had warned her, he had always been honest it would be that way. He had made no promises to stay with her or leave his family for her and she knew that. She wanted him even though she knew she couldn't keep him, even though he wanted to keep her. She brought him peace. She was purely _good_ , untarnished by the ways of his world and sweetly naive. Even his youngest sister, a small child, knew how to manipulate people and knew how to seek out her own personal gain effectively even being as young and innocent as she was. When he thought of letting Ophelia go previously he had merely felt possessive thinking of how she would move on and other men would have her. Now he also felt a strong sense of shame that the next man to be with her would treat her how she deserved to be treated and give her what she deserved to be given instead of sneaking her about as if she were someone to be disgusted by. He knew he wasn't what she deserved, but he was too selfish to let her go. She helped him stay sane.

"Are you-"

"Gwendolyn!" An elderly woman called, carrying a box with a smaller box held to her ear, a curled line connecting the two. A telephone is what Ophelia had called it, used to communicate with others in place of an owl. "Daniel is on the phone again. He wants to know if you received the documents?"

"Tell him I'm not going to testify for him," Gwendolyn snapped dismissively. "And to stop calling."

The elderly woman, Ophelia's grandmother, repeated the message into the box. He had never seen her either, though Ophelia claimed she was usually home but mostly always in her bedroom. "He isn't taking no for an answer, Gwendolyn."

"Hang up, mother."

"Oh, don't be so rude, Gwendolyn. The man is going through a nasty divorce. I won't do such a thing. Pardon, Daniel?" The woman cut off for a few moments. "He is saying that he knows exactly where you live and has only not barged in on you over the years out of courtesy but will make an exception for such an emergency."

"Oh _really_? Well, if he doesn't like the 'Daniel Clarke Beats Wife' headline then perhaps he doesn't want a 'Daniel Clarke Stalks and Harasses Small Family He Abandoned' headline either!"

Edric listened curiously. Daniel Clarke was Ophelia's father, he knew that much. Odd, he had made parallels between the upper class muggle world to his own circle of upper class, but nothing of the sort would make the headlines in his community.

"He is laughing, says no one would ever take you seriously."

Gwendolyn narrowed her eyes, stalking over to her mother and yanking the box out of her hand, slamming it on top of the other, holding it until it started shrilling loudly and Edric grimaced at the sound.

"Don't answer the phone again."

Edric was quiet as he watched the two women, attempting to tie the scene together. It never sounded as if Ophelia's father and mother were in much contact with each other, but perhaps they were more so than Ophelia believed based on what he was witnessing. He watched her grandmother grumble and retreat back behind the wall of the kitchen. Gwendolyn was a lot more hard headed than her daughter, a lot colder. She wasn't an ugly woman by any means, and he could see that she was clearly a lovely woman in her youth, but in her current state she looked tired and overworked. His own mother was nearly the same age, yet Freya looked many years younger than Gwendolyn. There was an odd beauty at the sight of the woman, natural and real in wearing the signs of her busy and difficult years.

"Hopefully you're fine with my food, though I'm sure it will be less than what you're used to," she sighed, plucking ingredients out of cupboards, seeming to move on and ignore what had just went on.

"I'm sure it won't be less, only different. I feel as if I ought to offer you help.. But I am afraid I may end up setting your house on fire. I do not know how to cook," he expressed apologetically.

"Rubbish. Of course you won't help. You're a guest, one that I was not aware of, but still. A guest. You never helped your mother bake or cook as a child?"

"My mother doesn't cook or bake, Ms. Hale," he chuckled, trying to imagine his mother attempting something like that.

"Right," she muttered. "That's a bit sad. Some days I really dread coming home and making dinner after a long day, but there is still something special in making your own meals or teaching your children how."

He nodded thoughtfully, trying to picture Ophelia as a young girl beside her mother, cooking without magic. "I want to apologize for my mother's treatment towards you that day in the shop," he started. "I know you will take it personally as an attack because of the fact that you're a muggle or that you are not as well off financially, but I can assure you that's just how she is, and I also know she wasn't giving you the money out of pity. I love my mother, but she is rough around the edges to say the least."

"You don't have to apologize for your mother," she finally replied after a few moments of silence. "I just hope that you don't have anything to apologize for when it comes to my daughter. She's strong, but she's still breakable and much too kind for her own good. Please don't hurt her. Please."

The sudden rush of guilt at this muggle woman's words took his breath away and he faltered slightly, gathering his thoughts together before he spoke. "I never want to hurt her, Ms. Hale," he said, his voice much steadier than he felt in that moment.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter what he had told her what to expect before, and it didn't matter if she knew the outcome of their relationship. It didn't change the fact that it was going to end, and it was going to end abruptly. It would kill her, and it would kill her mother as well. It would be his fault.

Her response was cut off by the well dressed man letting himself into the kitchen, his hair curly on top of his head. The muggle suit he was wearing was not much different from the suits Edric wore himself, and from the slight similarities in his face to his witch he had an unfortunate feeling that this was in fact her father, making good on his words that he knew where they lived.

"You can't.." Gwendolyn managed, stumbling back as she stared at him in shock and then fury. "You cannot just _break_ into my house!"

"I actually didn't break in seeing as the door was unlocked," the man said brightly, glancing around the home. "Not that the lock that would come with a place like this would be bound to actually keep anyone out. _This_ is the dangerous conditions you keep my child in?"

"You need to leave. Right now," she hissed, her eyes glancing towards where Ophelia left nervously.

"I will leave when you agree to help me, not a minute sooner."

"I will call the police," she warned, making a move towards her telephone object.

"You will not call the police, Gwen," he said, rolling his eyes. "Let's not be dramatic, yes?"

"Don't call me Gwen, and I _will_ call the police and you _will_ leave my home right now. Get your ex-wife to help you."

"My ex-wife? Oh yes, wonderful idea. She'll likely jump right on against me claiming 'Yes, now that you mention it, he _did_ hit me. Every night. Oh, I think I'll just need even _more_ of his money!' Brilliant, Gwendolyn," he said, his tone still lively as he imitated a woman's voice.

"Why would she lie unless you really are abusive?"

"I don't know how gold diggers and their brain's work. Ask my mother. Hold on," he paused, squinting at her. "What do you mean 'really are'? You _know_ I'm not abusive."

Gwendolyn sucked her teeth, watching him coolly. "And what makes you think I won't 'jump right on against you' just as she would?"

"Because you're a _good person_ , love. If you won't take my money to feed your child, I doubt you'd lie in court in order to steal it from me when I've been offering for years. And who's this? Bit young for you don't you think, Gwen?" The man asked, nodding towards Edric.

Edric wasn't sure how to respond to this man, he wasn't sure how to be reacting to this situation at all actually. He was Ophelia's father, yes, but he was also unwanted by her mother and had caused his witch a lot of pain. For that Edric did not want to pay the man any respect.

"Bit too young for me?" She scoffed. "Your current wife is what? Eighteen? He's Ophelia's boyfriend. None of your business really who either of us date."

"Edric Greengrass," Edric offered him, nodding stiffly to him in greeting.

"She's twenty-three actually," he replied, seeming unbothered. "Greengrass.. I feel as though I've attempted to purchase some property that belonged to that name.."

"Perhaps."

"Tell me, how would _your_ family handle a woman accusing you of beating her in order to rob you under your nose?"

"Women don't come out with such things in my circle. Actually, I've seen a couple of men slap their wives in the empty hallways of events 'privately' without shame. Those aren't the types of things that would make any headlines, at least in my community. Aside from that, pure-bloods don't really get _divorced_ , and if it is done the wife certainly doesn't get any money. She is simply.. Cast out," he explained, doubting he should be so honest about these things in front of Ophelia's mother. Yes, judging by her facial expression he had made a mistake in being so blunt.

They both stared at him before Daniel looked at Gwendolyn with an incredulous smile. "Right. What _century_ do you have our daughter living in exactly?"

"Daniel. I've had enough of you. If you didn't put your hands on her then you can't be charged with doing so, and it will all go away. You'll be fine just as you always are, and your precious money will stay in the bank."

"It will all go away? What do you think this is? Do you think I can just wave a magic wand, and-" He cut off, pointing his finger in the air suggestively. "Aha."

"It doesn't work like that, Daniel. Don't be an idiot," she sneered.

"How would I know how it works? It's not as if she ever comes close enough to me to explain it. By the way, I got a letter recently from that.. School she goes to informing me she's been getting into fights. Fight, Gwen? Have you been teaching her your ways? I would have attended the little school meeting had I been able to understand how the hell I was meant to get there. Also, the bird nearly tore my assistant's hand off. They could simply _telephone_ my office, and-"

"I told them not to send you things," Gwendolyn said in aggravation, shaking her head. "The sad part is is that I know you would inappropriately show up to a school meeting even though your daughter has never even _met_ you. I won't help you, Daniel. Please leave."

"Oh, you will help me, and if you don't I'm going to take you to court for custody of our child, informing them that you have been refusing to allow me contact with her since she was born. She's almost at an adult age, yes, but it won't change the hell you will be put through to afford a decent lawyer, which we both know you won't be able to afford, while I will have the best making it nearly impossible for me to lose any battle I choose to pursue. You will lose to me, and even worse you will lose to our daughter who is under the cruel impression that I have never attempted to have anything to do with her. Oh, and you will make headlines as well, and they won't be saying very nice things about you. I can assure of that. You will be humiliated, which is why I never took you to court before. Look, now you've gone and made me be nastier than I wish to be, but I've put up with enough. You've stolen my child from me as punishment, good on you. All I am asking is for you to show up in court and explain to them that I would never put my hands on any woman because you know full well I wouldn't. Make your choice, Gwendolyn, and please don't make me go the harsher route. I don't want to hurt either of you, but," he held his hands up before dropping them back down at his sides. "Desperate times."

Gwendolyn was still as she stared forward, her face upset. Edric was at a loss as well, hurting for Ophelia and what had been taken from her as he took in her father's words that exposed Ophelia's mother to him.

"It was not a punishment," her mother said shakily through her teeth. "And don't act like you would have ever publicly taken me to court. You would have only seen her in _secret_ , as she was the bastard you were ashamed of. Absolutely not would I and will I ever subject my child to such degradation."

"That wasn't your choice to make, and yet you made it for her. Hopefully our daughter will forgive you and agrees that pride is worth everything you've made her put up with. Though.. It _seems_ she is perfectly fine being around men who are capable of taking care of her properly, so I'm not sure there. I'm perfectly fine taking it to court at this point. Times have changed, love," he said, his voice perky.

"I cannot believe you're standing in my house threatening me." She was fighting tears now as she turned her head to look at him. "I cannot believe you are doing this to either of us."

"I don't want to! For God's sake stop the crying," he complained, pulling out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth as he searched his pockets.

"You will _not_ smoke in my house! What is wrong with you!"

The man exhaled for a long time before removing the cigarette as a small woman entered the room, her hair in a tight bun and glasses on her face. Her face was nervous as she clutched a muggle newspaper to her chest. "Sir.. I know you told me to wait in the car, but I went around to pick this up, and.. Well."

"Who is this? Is it a habit for all of you people to just waltz into people's houses?" Gwendolyn demanded, the weakness gone from her voice.

"It's my assistant, just relax," he said, waving her off. "What is it?"

The girl bit her lip, setting the paper down in front of him slowly. Daniel glanced down at the paper before he yelled almost comically, jumping away from the paper as if it had burned him. He covered his eyes with one hand, turning his face from the paper. "Emily. When I look back at that headline I'm almost sure I won't see the "R" word again, as I'm sure that was just a figment of my imagination, correct?"

".. No, Mr. Clarke," his assistant said apologetically.

"What do you mean by the 'R' word?" Ophelia's mother asked cautiously, though still appearing very irritated.

The man looked back down at the paper, staring at it in horror. "These women never fight fair, but this is.. She's aiming to murder me. How _low_.. The-" He cut off, closing his eyes and inhaling. "My therapist suggests certain exercises to help me when I begin to have strong reactions."

"You've just been accused of rape by your wife.. I believe you're allowed to be a bit angry, sir," the small girl said quietly, looking down.

"Daniel," Gwendolyn said slowly. "Your wife accused you of that?"

His wife was accusing him of rape? He had never heard of such a thing. How did that work exactly?

"I have to go," Daniel said, nodding as his eyes snapped open. "Please look at the documents, Gwen. Thank you for helping me." He quickly gathered the paper, leaving with his assistant, talking to the large box his assistant handed him and he left. "Yes, I've seen it, mother. Please stop screaming as I'm attempting to keep myself calm."

Edric listened closely for the water running from upstairs as they left, relieved to find it still going as the man left. He did not want to see Ophelia meet her father in such a setting, and also didn't want to be there to intrude on such a private family moment.

Well, at least _part_ of him didn't want to intrude on such a private moment.

"Edric," Gwendolyn said, catching his attention, sounding defeated. "Please.. Please don't repeat what you've heard. Please don't tell her that I've kept this from her.. I-I couldn't bear it if she hated me."

Edric watched the woman quietly as she began to cry, unsure of where he should stand in a situation like this. How could he not tell her? She deserved to know. She had suffered because of this, felt unwanted because of this. She would probably hate him if she knew he knew and didn't tell her.

How _could_ he tell her?

"It's not my secret to tell."


	50. Chapter 50

Daphne slid her leg more tightly around the naked waist of the man next to her sleepily, rubbing her nose into his skin to itch the tickle there, sneezing on him.

"Did you just blow your snot all over me, woman?" Adrian's voice was thick with sleep, and Daphne wondered if she had ever heard a sexier a sound, even if the words that went with it were less than appealing.

"There was no snot you prat," she huffed, nuzzling her face his chest again. "Don't ruin the morning with your mouth."

"You seemed to love my mouth last night," he purred, trailing his hand down the curve of her spine and around her arse, causing her back to arch at the motion. "Especially on your sweet little cu-"

"Stop!" She hissed tiredly, biting down on his flesh hard, satisfied when made a sound of pain. "I won't deal with your vulgarity _this_ early. Don't make me regret-" Her words were cut off with her loud yelp and her body jerked in shock as he brought his hand down much harder than playfully on the bare skin of her bottom.

She gasped angrily and twisted to examine her now reddening and stinging skin before squirming away from him, cursing him under her breath as she went to crawl out of the bed before he grabbed her by the hips and roughly pulled her back against the front of him, his hands roaming and rubbing up her body, caressing and squeezing her breasts.

"So you can hurt me but I can't hurt you, hm? Doesn't seem fair now does it, treacle? Don't go running off. I only just finally got you to let me touch you properly."

"How can you be so attractive and yet so terribly infuriating," she grumbled, closing her eyes at the feelings his massaging hands were forcing through her body, fighting a low moan. "If only you had a good personality to match."

Adrian gasped loudly in her ear, his hands stopping. "What? My wife finds me _attractive_? Careful there with the compliments, dove. I'm getting a bit embarrassed. I may even blush. You're right about my personality though, as it _surpasses_ how fucking stunning I am. Pretty impressive, I know."

Daphne rolled her eyes, twisting in his arms to face him once more. "Could your head be any larger? My arse is still stinging by the way. Don't do that again. It's not funny if you do it too hard."

He tsked, frowning in concern as he brushed his hand gently over the hot spot of the flesh that he had struck, drawing soothing circles with his palm. It felt very nice actually, though she made no indication of the fact, not wanting him to notice her positive reaction towards his touch. "I'll fix it. You just need a distraction from it. Here," he said before he moved his hand to the opposite side of her arse, smacking that it just as hard as the first. "Now you can focus on _this_ pain and forget the other. Aren't I always coming up with brilliant solutions?"

Daphne gasped loudly, shoving angrily at his chest to push herself away and completely off the bed. She scrambled to her feet, dragging the sheet with her furiously as she stalked to the bathroom.

"You're leaving me?" She heard him pout, an undertone of smugness in his voice. "I only wanted to help my poor wife feel better."

"Yes. I have to wash all of your residue off of me," she quipped, pushing the door shut to get into the shower as he laughed and made a comment about how much she loved being covered in his residue as she turned on the water.

"Adrian," Daphne started a few days later.

"Daphne," he mimicked in the same curious tone, checking his hair in the mirror as they prepared themselves for the party the Puceys were hosting tonight.

She was so tired of the parties.

"How many children do you want?"

".. Just the conversation a man wants to have before an event filled with sex, alcohol, and drugs."

"Right. About that. I don't really believe it's healthy for my children-"

" _Your_ children? Is my dick not participating in the creation of the little brats?'

"Don't call our children brats," she said sternly. "When will they be expected to be present during these inappropriate parties? I'm alright with them going to the more tame events when you people actually decide to interact with-"

" _You people_? Rude. Very rude, darling. It takes a lot of energy to interact with _your_ people, you realize," he said, raising his eyebrows at her.

"My people provide a more appropriate setting for children, and-"

"More appropriate for children? Are you fucking serious? Right, because teaching children to starve themselves, strip themselves of all humanity, not _speak_ -"

"Stop cutting me off!" She huffed. "I don't want my children around such things so young."

"Well you're going to have to give a little, dove. I was always around it all, and look how perfect I turned out."

"Adrian," she said quietly, watching him with concern. "Please be a bit reasonable. I know your community has had problems with their.. Substance addictions. I just want my children to be alright."

"Our children _will_ be alright," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Just relax. We will work it out when the time comes. Let's not plan everything detail by detail, alright? I just had to take on the responsibility of having a wife, let's give poor, exhausted Adrian a break."

"Let's not force Daphne to listen to her idiot husband speak in the third person," she said flatly. "I at least want my children to be around the same ages as my sister's-"

"Wonderful! I can't wait to decide when my life is consumed by drooling and screaming infants based on Malfoy's schedule!" He exclaimed, straightening his suit roughly, before snatching the letter from his waiting owl at the window.

"You're so testy today," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "You know that's basically the _point_ of arranged marriage besides having a pretty wife to show off? So you can breed perfect children and continue your line?"

"No need to explain our world to us. I got it. One responsibility at a time please."

"You're older than I am-"

Adrian groaned loudly enough to drown out her words. "Daphne, beautiful, please shut up. Just close your pretty lips on this subject for a bit. I'm begging you. You sound like my mother."

Daphne let out an irritated breath and stared at him for a few moments, debating on whether or not to let it go. She turned to the mirror to examine herself, pursing her lips at how she had filled out since she had gotten there as she had been every time she looked at her form, trying not to panic at the added weight. She looked better, she was sure of it. Adrian was constantly telling her. She just had to keep telling herself that.

"Ah.. Malfoy says something similar that happened with our wards happened to his," Adrian said from behind her, causing Daphne to whirl back around.

"What?" She demanded, crossing the room over to him to snatch the letter from his hands to scan it herself. "Adrian.. This is getting scary. My sister.."

"Getting? What, because it was fun and games before?" He snapped, running a hand through his hair as he moved away from her.

"Don't get like that," she said warningly, frowning at his tone. "Don't get like that again."

"What? Don't like it when I actually take shit seriously? I thought your problem with me was that I'm not serious and brooding enough." No, she was actually growing to adore easy-going he was, though for some reason she just couldn't get herself to be a bit more expressive of her feelings even though she knew he deserved her appreciation.

"I don't like it when you act resentful towards me. As if it's my fault," she said bitterly, swallowing the threatening lump attempting to form in her throat.

She was finished crying in front of him all of the time, even she was getting annoyed at herself and how emotional she was.

"It's not your fault," he said dismissively. "We have to go downstairs."

"Is it wise to keep having these parties when things like this are happening?" She breathed incredulously. "Adrian, they attempted to get into our home, and it wasn't just something random now that it has happened at the Manor as well! What if one of them sneaks through with the guests? Merlin knows you don't keep up with a guest list and check them at the door!"

"I will bring it up to my parents. For now we aren't going to cower in a corner like the ancients are doing. We live, not hide."

"The _ancients_ , as you so endearingly call them, have the right idea in reducing their own events to a minimum and going into hiding for the most part. You're taking a large risk-"

"Daphne," he said, his tone firm. "I told you I would mention it to my parents. Let that be enough for now, alright?"

Daphne took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. She didn't really want to spend too much time arguing with him, and he was a bit on edge. She didn't want to push him into something unpleasant for the both of them. "Alright, Adrian. Alright.. Let's go then."

"Good girl," he cooed, his expression lighthearted once more as he offered her his arm. Yes, she had made the right choice in dropping the issue. "Lighten up now. You'll get premature wrinkles and I may have to replace you with a teenage bride in a few years. Perhaps you need a pick-me-up, I have-"

"I don't want anything you consider a pick-me-up," she said dully, taking his arm. "Let's just go. I'm all too eager to deal with the whores that strut themselves around my home as if they own it."

"Adrian!" A black-haired woman cried brightly once they were downstairs, looking him up and down with exaggerated enthusiasm. " _So_ wonderful to see you!"

Daphne raised her eyebrow, recognizing the woman as Violet Enderson, a woman who came from a family of known blood-traitors somewhat against their will as their ruined reputation had forced them to switch up their image to fit better into a different community when they were forced out of theirs.

Daphne's father's doing actually, if she remembered correctly.

"Friend of yours, Adrian?" Daphne asked, eyeing Violet.

"Definitely not a friend," Adrian snorted.

"Daphne! It's been so long since I've seen you, hasn't it? I must say I love the new look, almost didn't recognize you actually!"

"A friend of _yours_ , love?" Adrian asked, turning to Daphne.

"No, but we've been acquainted."  
"Well, I've been _acquainted_ with all of you. It's my speciality to get to know everyone," she said, smirking as she lifted her drink to her lips. "How's your sister doing? I do miss seeing her."

"Small talk, Enderson? Not like you at all," Adrian told her, taking the drink from her hands to down it himself.

"You're right. Politeness doesn't suit me, just as it doesn't suit you. I just figured since I hadn't been to one of your events in a while, and since you've only recently returned from a long vacation of avoiding your duties as your parents' son, I figured I'd drop in and make nice."

"Aren't I lucky then?" Adrian gasped, holding his hand to his chest as if he were flattered. "Well, you can make nice with my wife while I go.. Over there, yeah?"

Daphne watched her husband's back dully as he left her with Violet who was regarding her with that both smug and intrigued look she always seemed to have stuck to her face.

"So, not really a _Greengrass_ type of setting, is it?" Violet asked, looking around the crowded home.

"I'm not a Greengrass anymore, am I?" Daphne answered, her tone unbothered.

"I suppose you're not. Good choice, well I suppose it wasn't your _choice_ , but still. I'm sure having a bit of fun is much more enjoyable than sitting around playing perfect all of the time, no?"

"I'm not sure, really. Ask your parents what they felt of their transition to a different community," Daphne replied, her tone feigning innocence as she tilted her head at her.

Violet raised her eyebrows, a bit of anger flashing in her eyes before she smiled. "Fair enough then. I can respect your attitude. Well, maybe _Charlotte_ could tell us how hers went," The girl said, her voice growing even louder over the music as she turned towards the couple passing near the two of them.

Charlotte Blythe stopped beside her husband, Corwin Higgs, at the sound of her name, her eyes zeroing in on the source before her eyes slid to Daphne. Daphne had seen her only once since she had been married to Adrian as she had apparently been ill according to the Higgs, and when she had seen her Charlotte hadn't appeared to notice her. Before that Daphne had seen her at a few more general pure-blood events, but she seemed to always avoid her family. She definitely didn't appear to be the same girl as she had when she was younger and one of the most obvious options to be married into the more respectable families before she had slipped up and was embarrassed publicly by Daphne's mother. Daphne had never thought much of it, and she hadn't minded Charlotte as a young girl, but she knew Charlotte was never fond of her sister and Astoria had only been all too keen on mocking her when she had disappointed her family. Though Adrian and Terence were friends, she knew that the Higgs and the Puceys were one of the more obvious rival families of their community.

A cold smile crossed Charlotte's confident features and she slowly sauntered over to the two of him, her husband squinting at the both of them as if he were deciding on whether they were worth following his wife and participating in having conversation with. Apparently they were, as he followed his wife's actions, grinning as he examined Daphne. She hadn't had much chance to speak with Corwin, but she had definitely heard stories about him. It was interesting that both the Pucey family and the Higgs had taken wives from the circle she had grown up in, them both being in such competition with the other. She did know that the Puceys were considered more favorable than the Higgs, so that gave her a leg up.

For the the time being.

"Daphne. So interesting to finally see you here. I knew you that you were a Pucey now.. Well.. I've also heard some things about how well you've adjusted to being a Pucey, but.. Hmm. Don't worry. Things will look up for you _I'm sure_ ," Charlotte told her, an odd, cruel and elated look in her eyes.

"I wasn't worried," Daphne replied, smiling without warmth. "I'm glad to see that you look somewhat better now, not cowering at the sight of my family."

"Don't be absurd," Charlotte scoffed, examining her as her lip curled. "As if I would ever _cower_ to a family who lost their son to a _mudblood_. Have you seen your brother since he was disowned?"

Corwin laughed in shock, turning on his wife with wide eyes. "Are you out of your _fucking_ mind?" He hissed, a tight grin on his face as he looked between them.

The atmosphere quieted a considerable amount for being so previously loud after Charlotte spoke the words and Daphne felt as though the woman had dumped a bucket of ice over her. Never had another person mentioned Edric to her face since he had been disowned, besides Adrian respectfully in private, they were not _meant_ to mention him, even these types of families knew that.

"What's wrong, darling? Have I hit a nerve?" Charlotte asked with mocking sympathy in her tone.

"There are some lines we don't cross, poppet," Corwin told his wife, grabbing her arm to pull her away from Charlotte. "We don't go pissing off the wrong families, and right now you're going for two families at once, neither of them I'm prepared to deal with. Actually, three if you count ours."

Daphne composed herself, stepping towards Charlotte. "It's interesting the way my family's leftovers is speaking to me. Have you ever considered learning your place?"

"Family's leftovers?" Charlotte repeated, her eyes flashing. "And what are you, Daphne? Your prized sister's husband's leftovers? Isn't that how you got here? Nothing but a cast-off."

"And how did _you_ get here, love?" Daphne cooed, unfazed by her comment as she got close to the woman's face. "Won't you tell us?"

Charlotte sneered and stepped back. "I can assure you that it wasn't from a cheap shag in the broom closet with one of the most well known pure-bloods in our circle like a complete fool."

"It was an empty classroom, not a broom closet," Daphne corrected. "I did do that, like a fool, and yet-" Daphne stopped to look at all of the onlooking young girls who often threw her nasty looks in their jealousy, no doubt hoping for Charlotte to win this little spat against her. "I was scorned by my circle, but here I am. Getting the better of _all_ of you without even trying. Now, why don't you own up to what you did, Charlotte? Why are you backing away from me now? Don't start something you can't finish. Are you afraid my father will destroy you as you've always been just so afraid of him? Are you still ashamed that you're so incapable of making your family proud that a _mudblood_ got the better of you? That a mudblood ended up taking your husband? Careful, you might lose this one too if you don't behave." Daphne lowered her voice to a dark, mocking tone. "Perhaps I can make him beat you the same way your daddy beat you in result of my family's negative opinions towards you."

"Why am I not surprised that a fight breaks out only moments after leaving my life alone with you, Enderson?!" Adrian exclaimed, returning to loop an arm around Daphne's waist. "Is there a problem, ladies?" Though Adrian was looking at Corwin as he spoke.

"Absolutely no problem, darling!" Daphne said, smiling at Adrian widely. "I was just catching up with my old family friend! Oh, and addressing all of the lovely women who lost you to me." Daphne beamed at the onlooking women. "I think they are _finally_ coming to terms that this is my house and they will never be anyone worth talking about. Unless Charlotte here doesn't learn to keep her mouth shut. Then they may have a chance at Corwin."

Charlotte was shaking with anger, every inch of her visibly upset and thoroughly bothered by Daphne's words. The woman seemed significantly smaller now as she backed down from Daphne. Corwin looked dangerously angry with his wife, and Daphne wondered if he really would physically harm her.

"Pucey. I'm hoping your wife doesn't want to bring any problems onto my family, or else _we_ may not be able to remain friends any longer," Corwin said, his cheery voice sounding terrifying coated in ice.

"Corwin, mate, do try not to threaten me. Don't like that too much if I'm being honest. Makes me feel cornered, do you know what I mean? Nah, don't corner me, and don't let your wife attempt to corner mine again while in my house. Not for my wife's sake, but for yours. She obviously doesn't know how to handle herself," Adrian replied, tightening his arm around her waist protectively.

Daphne noticed the gazes of the women around her change, and where she expected fury she instead saw an irritated respect in some of their faces before most of them moved on with the events of the party, the volume of the room seeming to return back to normal.

"Come on kids, let's all get along," Violet sang and Adrian threw her a look before Corwin stepped back, his expression falling into a lazy, cocky expression once more.

"Yeah, Pucey. Let's all get along, alright? It was good to see you, gorgeous," he said, winking at Daphne. "I'm sure you and Char will warm up to each other. You have so much in common."

Daphne nearly scoffed at the thought of ever warming up to the bitch but smiled back, waving her fingers at Charlotte as her husband guided her away from Daphne and her husband.

"As much as I enjoy a good cat fight, let's not start out with the Higgs, alright?"

"She mentioned my brother," Daphne told him, shaking her head. "In front of all of these people. If I told my father.."

"No snitching to your father," he told her firmly. "Let's not go there. I feel like you held your own enough without needing to run to daddy."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I never 'run to daddy'. I'm not Astoria." Daphne looked over to where Violet was previously, not finding her as the atmosphere dimmed even darker and the music thumped louder. "Did the Higgs leave?"

"Not likely. They're around. Corwin can be nasty, so be careful with him. At least be careful when I'm not around."

It was the early hours of the morning when everyone had gone, and the party had finally cleared. Daphne and Adrian were retreating to their bedroom when Rhys called them over, sounding worried.

* * *

 

"What, Nott? No salt for the wound? Haven't you come to scold me for defying you in front of your friends?" Freya Krat demanded bitterly, her face appearing shaken as Joseph Nott grabbed her wrist, pulling up her sleeve to find the gash there, examining it carefully.

He raised an eyebrow at her words, pressing his thumb down on the cut roughly and Freya hissed in pain, attempting to yank her arm away from his hold.

"Don't have any salt on me, but hopefully that worked well enough. It was _your_ suggestion," he murmured, pulling a vial of potion from his pocket to apply to the cut.

"What are you doing," she asked weakly, watching him with eyes that were slowly losing their hardness.

"I hurt you," he answered calmly. "I'm healing you now."

"I disarmed you. I brought you to your knees in front of others. Why do you care if you grazed me with one of your spells? This _little girl_ got the better of you, Nott. Shouldn't you be plotting with your mates in a corner about how to get back at me for my insolence?"

"I shouldn't have spoken about you like that, and Malfoy is unlikely to say anything after you humiliated him. It's not as if he will want anyone to know."

"Oh, so you're saying that you deserved what you got?"

"No. I'm not happy with you, but knowing you as long as I have I should have expected it. Just because I'm angry with you doesn't mean I want you hurt. It also doesn't mean that I'm okay with whatever the fuck just happened with Greengrass. Care to explain?" He asked, his eyes narrowing as he spoke the last words.

Freya looked away, allowing him to apply the potion to her arm gingerly. "I don't know," she said coldly before her face fell into something weaker. "I don't know," she repeated softly. "I just.. Gave up. I felt him in my head, and I just let him have what he wanted. I didn't want to fight it. I'm tired of everything. I'm tired of fighting. I don't want to fight anymore. I hate this world, and I hate being a witch." Her voice fell to a whisper near the end of her sentence, looking down.

Joseph froze, looking up at her with alarm. "You do _not_ hate being a witch, Freya," he told her firmly, moving his head down to try to catch her lowered gaze before giving up and reaching for her chin, Freya flinching away before his hand took her face, tilting it up towards his. "Look at me. Don't say that, and don't act like you want to give up. It's fine. It will all be _fine_ , do you understand? Hogwarts is almost over. You'll marry me, you'll leave your father and brother behind, and people like Greengrass won't be able to come near you like that again."

"But it doesn't matter. I'll still have to be around them. I'll still have to act civil with them for the rest of my life at those events I don't want to attend, have children and raise them in the same nonsense, teach my daughters that they only get to be one thing and that's a prize to a man, teach my sons to be cruel and conquer, and you.. You kill people. You kill people, Joseph. I don't care if they're not like us, they're still _people_. I don't like it. I don't like the thought of you coming home to me and getting in our bed after slaughtering human beings, or the fact that those horrible, vile men who aren't even _like_ us will be in our home. They're savages," Freya told him, her voice thick with both disgust and sadness as she searched Joseph's eyes.

"You're acting as if I'm a monster, as if I kill for sport. I'm doing what I'm told, and I'm trying to make sure we are on the right side at the climax of the war that's only just starting. They're less than us, those 'people' you're pitying. Shut your mind down to them if you want to stay sane. Yes, perhaps our world means nothing, but when no one is around you can be yourself. I don't aim to conquer you, Freya. I never have. Our children don't have to be miserable, but we just need to survive, and I will make sure that we survive."

"All of us simply _survive._ I'm tired of surviving. I want to live, and I want to feel. None of us feel, none of us are in love. It's all a game. It's all business. No one is living, only breathing."

"We can grow to be in love," he said, rolling his eyes. "Since when are you the romantic type? If I knew that, I would have tried to stop seeing you as my best friend a long time ago and tried to see you more romantically." His voice softened and he dropped his hand, holding her gaze. "I do love you, Freya. I love you more than anyone, and I have since we were kids. You're my best friend; my _family_. I think that means a bit more than the idiots who go around snogging each other in the halls and making eyes at each one another during classes and calling themselves in love. I love you, and I always will. Unconditionally. Please just let that be enough, and let us get through this. I know you don't like what I'm doing, and it's not as if I _enjoy_ it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to change or we have to change. We can live, and we can be happy. We have to make the best of what we have to work with, what other option is there?"

"Okay," she said softly after a while, her expression filled with a vulnerability that changed the look of her completely. "Okay, Joseph. I'll keep trying.."

"I'm sorry," he told her gently. "I'm sorry that you've never stopped hurting, and I'm sorry that I'm now someone adding to your pain. I'll do what I can to fix it. I want you to be happy. I've always wanted you to be happy. Just be patient with me for now I'm.. Stuck in something I have to work through."

"I know you don't mean it," Freya sighed. "And I don't know where I'd be without you and your family. You know I love you too."

"I know," he said, his lips turning up into a lighthearted smirk. "Look how nice I am. You acted like a crazy bitch today and I'm still healing the _scratch_ I left on you."

The memory faded into another while sadness swept over Astoria as she was unable to control her mourning for the relationship her mother could have had, even it meant a different world for her family entirely.

Freya sat alone, the atmosphere of the Slytherin table seeming off in its buzz of gossip, the other Slytherins glancing at her as they huddled in groups. Joseph entered the Great Hall calmly, his pace slow has he took his time, ignoring the stares from his housemates. He stopped in front of the table where Freya sat, staring down at her with a level, emotionless expression before he dropped the paper he was holding down in front of her, his family's name and picture covering the front as their downfall was explained in the text. Freya looked up at him slowly, holding his gaze defiantly for several moments as she seemed to dare him to say anything to her. He said nothing as he held her eyes for several seconds before turning to exit the way he had came with the same calmness he had entered with, his head held high.

Freya's expression dropped as son as he left, staring down at the paper, seeming disconnected from herself. She didn't move for a long time, not attempting to eat or look away from the paper until Rhys Pucey came to sit beside her quietly.

"Freya," he said slowly. "I don't know what's going on, or why you did it. I don't care, and I've always been your friend before Nott's. Whatever he did.. Well, I know you didn't do this over nothing. You don't have to tell me. Just remember we are still friends, alright? Seeing as I barely remember what the Greengrass family looks like at all as I'm never rarely around those families I doubt we will be seeing much of each other after we get off the train, but that doesn't make us any less of friends."

Freya didn't reply or move until he got up himself, leaving her there alone.

Astoria looked down at her lap when the scene cleared from the room, her face gathered together in sadness and confusion. "I don't understand," she said to Draco who was saying nothing. "I don't understand what happened."

"Seems like your father happened," Draco drawled and Astoria scowled, tired of her husband blaming her father for everything though she couldn't find it in her to disagree with him completely. "And as much as your mother has oddly grown on me I have to say she's quite the traitorous bitch."

"I just want to know what he did," Astoria sighed. "Why won't this stupid thing show us?"

"It doesn't like to be told what to do, it just likes to show you whatever it feels like, I've found," Draco mused, taking the letter the house-elf gave him, skimming it.

His expression fell into something serious and he sat up properly, pulling out his wand to summon a parchment and quill to write a response. "What is it, Draco?" She asked, standing to go sit beside him, attempting to read the letter. "It's very late to be sending letters.." They were normally not up this late themselves, but they had been distracted by the Pensieve.

"The Puceys want to come here. They're afraid they will be attacked soon. _All_ of the Puceys," Draco said, his voice laced with anxiety.

"Were they attacked again?" She asked, panic rising in her throat. "You're allowing it, yes? Draco, please tell me-"

"Of course I'm allowing it," he snapped impatiently. "Pucey is my friend at the end of the day, whether I actually like him much or not."

"And Daphne is my sister," she muttered, slightly offended he didn't include her when explaining his reasoning for allowing their stay. There were times when he seemed thoughtful and caring, and others where he seemed the opposite.

"That too," he said dismissively, standing to send the letter off.

When the Puceys arrived, Astoria stood to greet her sister in relief, but was taken off guard by her appearance. She blinked, examining her her sister's more than showy, glittery dress that nearly blinded her in its gaudiness, matching the same aesthetic Olena Pucey was presenting.

Her sister was truly one of _those_ now.

"And I thought your outfit was horrid before," Astoria nearly groaned, shaking her head at her sister, hearing Olena Pucey mutter about Astoria being rude.

"So good to see you too," Daphne snapped. "It's not as if we were almost murdered or anything."

"Well of course," Astoria huffed, walking over to kiss her sister's face. "You know I've been so worried about you, but I do wish that you were wearing clothes."

"Thank you, Draco. We appreciate it," Rhys sighed. "We know it's late."

"It's probably better this way actually," Draco said. "If they are truly coming for top families now it will be better if we are together." Draco sat to write another letter, not bothering to greet the Puceys properly.

Astoria noticed Adrian's quietness, it was difficult not to when he always seemed as if he had something to say, and she frowned at him in concern before looking at her sister questionably. Daphne shook her head in response, looking at Olena who was eyeing the Manor with a frown.

"It's quite dark here, isn't it?" She asked.

"No need to complain about the decorations when they're allowing us to stay in their home for the time being," Rhys scolded her. "Be polite."

"Allowing us?" Olena gasped. "We're _family_!"

Astoria nearly laughed, knowing full well her husband would never see the Puceys as _family_ , as he barely saw Adrian as a friend and didn't even acknowledge the fact that Daphne was his sister-in-law. After Draco sent the letter off, he began speaking with Rhys about his wards and the second attempt at them. Astoria focused her attention on her sister, pulling her to sit next to her as she searched her face, bringing her hands into her lap.

"Are you alright? I would die if anything happened to you. You should have been here from the start. I told Draco-"

"I'm fine, Tori. Do I look like I'm not alright? Adrian is a bit put out, but he's alright too," she murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear before smirking at Astoria, attempting to lighten the mood. "I saw Charlotte Higgs tonight. She's still a complete bitch."

"Yes, now that you mention it I do remember her having to stoop to marrying into a family like the Higgs," Astoria said, her smirk matching her sister's as she thought of the woman and her downfall. "I already commented on your appearance, so I won't answer you on whether or not you look alright."

"Like the Higgs," Olena repeated, looking at her husband before looking at Astoria. "You're too pretty to be so rude, child."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Pucey," Astoria said, smiling apologetically. "I forgot my manners it seems. Can I offer you anything? I can lead you to a room whenever your ready."

"Don't worry, Olena. She's always a bitch, but for some reason people can never see it. Glad she's being one in front of you so you can see it too and don't think I'm just being bitter," Daphne told her mother-in-law, giving Astoria a smug look.

"That's alright. I've met your mother before, Astoria."

"I'm nothing like my mother," Astoria replied to the woman, her eyebrows coming together as she leaned back slightly in offense, looking at Draco when he snorted loudly at her words.

"Don't blame you for being offended," Joseph Nott said, entering the room they were all gathered in with his son. "I don't think anyone wants to be compared to her."

"Joseph. So good to see you, mate. When was the last time we sat down and had the time to catch up with each other?" Rhys asked Joseph cheerily.

It was quite bizarre seeing the two of them in the same room after seeing the younger versions of themselves as friends at Hogwarts with her mother. So much had changed, and they had gone in completely different directions in life. Astoria wondered if Rhys felt sorry for Joseph, or if he was so faithful as Freya's friend that he felt he deserved what he had gotten. Joseph had done well for his family since the scandal, but everything with the Death Eaters had also taken a toll on his family as it did to the Malfoy family.

"Malfoy says it's best if we stay together, and I agree however," he paused, raising an eyebrow at the Puceys. "I'm not sure where the Puceys fit in, Draco."

"We fit in everywhere actually. We are a lovely family," Rhys said, nodding. "And we can't actually go anywhere outside of the homes of families being investigated thanks to sweet Astoria here. Trust me, Malfoy Manor is far from our first choice of safe houses." Astoria looked down with guilt, feeling embarrassed and ashamed that everyone was constantly recognizing her as the one who screwed the Puceys over. Rhys at least didn't seem angry with her, and the man always seemed calm which was a slight contrast to his son.

"Where is Sylvia? I haven't seen her in so long. I heard you two still do not get along," Olena asked Joseph, looking around for his wife. "Very sad. She's a beautiful woman."

"You heard correctly. Nice to see your English has improved," Joseph said slowly. "She's at her parents' again, as she has been going frequently. Safer really, as well as nice in that I don't have to put up with her."

"I think this is a terrible idea," Theodore said irritably, looking as if he was just woken up as his hair was all over the place in a frustratingly attractive way. "Seems like we are just making it convenient for them, rounding ourselves up like this."

"Then by _all_ means, Theodore," Astoria said, smiling tightly at him. "You go back home and fend off the Death Eaters yourself. Perhaps call your mother home to join you."

Rhys whistled lowly, pulling his bottom lip back over his bottom teeth in a grimace that expressed awkwardness and Adrian snickered, seeming to gather himself together from his off silence, nodding appreciatively at her as Daphne tried to cover her laugh with a cough. Joseph raised his eyebrows, looking between the both of them. "Do you two need to be separated? What is this?"

Neither of them said anything, and Draco seemed to be ignoring the exchange all together.

"Well, is it all right if _I_ stay, Astoria? Or are you going to imply that I should go home and be killed as well?"

"You can stay," Astoria sniffed, lifting her chin, avoiding Theodore's withering gaze at her.

"Well," Joseph expressed, sitting down. "It's certainly a first that anyone has ever held me above my _charming_ son and _suffering_ wife."

"You're right, Astoria. Nothing like your mother at all," Rhys commented, looking intrigued as he stared at the Pensieve that they had not covered as they usually did when they were finished with it.

"We were just watching the two of you through that. It's quite entertaining actually, that you're both here together now," Draco told him, nodding towards the Pensieve.

"Of course you have to note how well I've aged, I'm sure," Rhys replied, winking at his scoffing wife.

"Lovely," Joseph said, his lip curling. "I'm simply thrilled that two children have been spying on my life."

"We just watched the part where Freya exposed your family. It was a tragedy, honestly," Draco told Joseph, his tone bored and not at all sympathetic.

Joseph's jaw visibly tensed and Rhys leaned forward towards Draco. "Did you? Did you see what Nott did? I never found out. Sad how neither of my friends would tell me."

"Because it was my fault the crazy bitch betrayed my family," Joseph sneered at him. "How could I possibly forget, Pucey?"

"No," Astoria answered Rhys regretfully, ignoring Joseph, looking at the Pensieve with a sigh. "It's very frustrating. I suppose Mr. Nott would not want to tell us either.."

"Mr. Nott will not be telling you anything" Joseph snapped in his aggravation, glaring at the Pensieve. "Besides the fact that your mother was ungrateful and completely broke my mother's heart."

Olena exclaimed something loudly in her language in confusion as the Pensieve pooled another memory around them, consuming the room.

Freya, looking around twelve this time around, stood in the Nott fireplace, soaked in liquid that was filthy in result of using the Floo. Mr. and Mrs. Nott stopped talking to turn to stare at her in surprise, calling their son in worriedly.

"What's happened to you, darling?" Abigail asked as she rushed over to her, concern covering her face. Her head jerked back in surprise when she got close to her and inhaled the air around her, covering her mouth and nose with her hand. "You're covered in alcohol."

"May I clean up here, Mrs. Nott?" Freya asked, shifting uncomfortably, wiping the residue from the floo to reveal a bruised cheek, wincing at her own touch. "I apologize that I'm making a mess.. You told me to come and see you if I needed you, but my father has remarried so I'm not sure if the offer still stands."

"Yes, of course," the woman replied, helping her up the stairs, throwing her husband and son a sad glance.

"Son," Mr. Nott started, grimacing at the retreating females. "We do not put our hands on our women. To beat your woman is to beat your own pride, especially your own child. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Joseph replied, looking up at his father and frowning before looking back at the stairs, looking upset for his friend. "I understand."

* * *

 

Novalie arrived at the home in which Edric and Ophelia Greengrass lived, examining the house with interest before knocking on their door. She knew Ophelia had rejected the job more than once, but the Aurors had sent her to attempt convincing the woman herself seeing as they both worked in the same field. She was definitely hoping for the best results, as it would be more than interesting to see the wife of the disowned Greengrass interacting with all of the people he had grown up with, the same people who had cast him off completely to never speak of him again.

Thankfully, it was Ophelia who answered the door because Novalie doubted she would get anywhere at all with Edric Greengrass himself. "Hello," Novalie told her, smiling and taking in her appearance. She was definitely not a pure-blood woman, expensive home or not. Still, she was beautiful, and Novalie could see the appeal. "I'm Novalie Eld. Is your husband home?"  
"No," Ophelia said, frowning suspiciously. "Why are you looking for him?"

"Do suspect your husband unfaithful?" Novalie asked curiously, knowing she was being rude though she didn't mean the question maliciously.

"No," Ophelia replied coolly, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I'm allowed to ask why someone is looking for my husband, am I not? Besides, it is rare for someone to come to our home looking for him."

"I'm not looking for him actually. May I come in?"

Ophelia looked around, looking cautious now. "You make sure my husband isn't home and then expect me to let you in? I hope I don't look _that_ foolish."

"No, it's nothing like that. I'm assisting the Aurors as a psychologist. They asked me to come talk to you about joining me," she told her, watching her reaction grow frustrated.

"I've already told them no," she said impatiently. "My husband won't allow it."

"Ah, well.. Yes. I know how pure-blood men are always in control of their wives," she expressed, nodding in understanding, waiting for Ophelia to reject the idea.

"He isn't in control of me," she argued defensively. There it was. "It isn't safe, and I agree."

"I understand," she repeated. "It's best to keep the marriage friendly instead of jeopardizing it by arguing too much."

"Again," she said slowly. "It's not just his decision."

"Why do you feel it unsafe? You don't have to interview Daphne Pucey or Astoria Malfoy if that's what you're afraid of. That _is_ what you're worried about, yes? There are plenty of families you can assist with, and you do not have to use your husband's name in front of them," she told her, tilting her head.

"I.." She faltered. "I'm still a muggle-born."

Novalie laughed lightly. "Half of them believe _me_ a muggle-born. You won't get hurt. I can see you don't want to let me in, but think it over alright? Ask your husband of course," she said the last part firmly, knowing by the expression on her face she had convinced her much too easily.

She was slightly disappointed. She was hoping the woman would be less guarded so she could ask her more about her marriage. She was very curious to know what their relationship and life was like. Ophelia was clearly sensitive about whether or not the man controlled her, but that could mean many things. She was also disappointed that she would have to keep her word on not bringing the woman around her husband's sisters, as that would be more than interesting to watch unfold. Painful no doubt, but fascinating, especially from what Theo had told her. She hadn't meant to act so foolish and aggressive towards Astoria, but she had panicked like an idiot when Astoria had recognized her name, and now she doubted she would ever be able to get anything worth while out of her now that the girl didn't like or trust her. Ophelia would definitely get past her polished facade, and Novalie wished it would make sense for the woman to come face to face with her, but she knew that it made none. She could understand completely why Ophelia refused.

"We are so happy that you are here.." Hermione started as she looked down at her clipboard, only a few days after Novalie had gone to convince Ophelia to join them. "Mrs. Hale? Mrs. Hale. I know it must be frightening for you to approach a situation like this, and I wish I had the time to talk to some of the muggle-born psychologists who were too afraid, but I've just been up to by ears in all of this mess. Novalie, many of the pure-bloods have grouped together at Malfoy Manor. Convenient for us I suppose, but also worrying since a lot of them have expressed concern that there have been attempts on their homes. Anyway, we will start there. Of course, though there a many of them all in one place there are still only a couple of Aurors assigned to the job. The sense that makes? I'm not exactly sure, but you can't expect much more from the Auror Department at the moment, can you?"

Hermione continued to ramble on and Novalie noticed Ophelia stiffen, her eyes widening in alarm as she began to back away, her mouth opening to protest as the male Auror took her arm and apparated her gruffly before she could say anything.

Did this count as Novalie breaking her word?


	51. Chapter 51

Granger was directing the two Aurors that were along with her when Draco came down after waking up his wife, giving one to Blaise and the other to Olena and Rhys, claiming there was no need for _all_ of them to be so "flocked together in one room in such a big home". Draco was sure the real reason was that they didn't want too many of them together at once as they outnumbered the Aurors considerably.

"Where is Astoria, Draco?" Granger asked, glancing around.

"There is no need to address me by my first name," he answered, examining her with distaste. "We are not _friends_ , nor do we fuck. Astoria is coming, I'm sure she misses you as terribly as you seem to miss her."

Draco ignored her as she responded with some complaints at his inappropriate use of language as well as the way she was puffing her chest out in her temper, examining the very nervous looking woman next to her. She was dressed the same as the Eld woman, and he assumed this was the new psychologist. Lovely, another intrusive bitch to pick at their heads.

"So, Granger. This is the _muggle-born_ that's meant to purposely misunderstand us so you can lock us all up easier?" Draco asked, eyeing the woman's thick curls that were much darker and more coiled than Granger's.

Was it not more professional to tame your bloody hair for a job?

Granger scowled, glancing at the woman next to her in confusion. "I'm not sure what you mean, Malfoy. She's just here for a second opinion."

"Because you didn't like the pureblood's opinion."

"I know you," Daphne said, her voice cutting through the two of them. "You're the mudblood who told my mother about Charlotte. I remember. You look exactly the same."

Draco caught Pucey's eye who was giving him a look he wasn't able to decipher, seeming to be attempting to communicate something to him.

"Her name is Ophelia, Daphne," Granger said, her voice slightly cool. "It would be appreciated if we all learn to address each other nicely. Your sister can be kind, why can't you?"

"Yes Astoria is _so_ sweet, isn't she?" Daphne asked dully, rolling her eyes. " _Ophelia_ then. Were you not the one from the bookshop?"

"Yes, that was me," the woman said reluctantly, avoiding Daphne's gaze.

"Novalie," Nott said loudly, staring at her accusingly.

Eld frowned at him, shaking her head, confusing Draco more. He apparently was nearly the only one out of the loop.

"Well please, don't leave the rest of us out of the fun. _Do_ tell us about this exciting bookshop tale," Joseph drawled sarcastically.

"I actually have a few questions for you for you first, Mr. Nott," Granger said, stepping around the group of them to get to Joseph. "Novalie will help you, Ophelia."

Pucey cleared his throat, grinning at the new woman. "So, I volunteer to go first, as I'm the nicest of these arseholes so I'll help ease you into it."

"I've been a psychologist long enough to not require 'easing', Mr. Pucey."

"Apparently not long enough," Pucey said oddly, his voice tight.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him, shaking his head. "Do you two know each other?"

"Yeah, I think I was like a first or second year when she was graduating."

".. Were you a Slytherin?" Draco asked the woman dully.

"Ravenclaw."

"The _smart_ house!" Pucey commented, laughing through his teeth as he shook his head her.

"So you just remember every single student no matter how many years ahead of you they were, Pucey?"

"Of course, Malfoy. I'm a Pucey. I have to charm my way around everyone, it's what makes me so adored by all."

"Oh good you're here, Tori. These men were doing my head in," Daphne complained, motioning for her sister to hurry and come to sit with her, frowning when she noticed Astoria's expression towards the Ophelia woman, turning her attention to her as well.

The room was suddenly frozen as he watched his wife's eyes meet the psychologist's, and he physically felt the temperature in the room drop as Astoria's face got that look, that look he had seen before when she lost her composure, that cold blooded look that seemed so misplaced on her delicate face. Misplaced, but believable enough to the point he himself was nervous.

"Are you truly here, standing in front of me?" Astoria said finally, her voice eerily hollow as she stepped towards the woman. "You've plucked up the _nerve_ to show your face here? In my _home_?"

Daphne looked at Draco in confusion and worry as Adrian closed his eyes slowly beside her, glancing at Granger who was speaking with Joseph.

"Astoria," the woman said, her voice edged with guilt and remorse. "I never meant to-"

"After everything you've stolen from me," Astoria continued, her soft voice cutting off her words. "You have come back for my pride."

Astoria walked forward until she was only an arm's length away from the psychologist, and though shorter than her she still somehow seemed to dominate over the woman.

"Well you can't have it," she whispered.

"That's not why I'm here-"

There was a yelling coming from the other room as one of the Aurors called for Granger. Draco didn't turn to look as Granger rushed to exit the current scene to join her colleague, directing Eld to make sure things went smoothly.

Did she not see the look on his wife's face?

"You can't have it," she repeated. "But perhaps I can take yours. Not that yours is worth much, do you even have any left? You certainly have no shame, no shame in putting your filthy, unworthy hands on what isn't yours, what you never earned."

Draco could nearly hear the sound in his head when everything clicked together, understanding flooding him and from the edge of his vision he could see Pucey take a hold of his wife, drawing her near him cautiously. The woman stepped back from Astoria, seeming to try to get even further from her but her body jerked oddly, seeming glued to the floor.

"No, no. You're going to stand there like a good little mudblood and listen to what your superior has to say to you." Astoria's tone was chillingly sweet, and Draco didn't know how to react or know whether or not to separate the two before things got worse.

Would that not be denying his wife her chance at a bit of justice?

"What is it with you pathetic little girls, coming after our men the way you do? The way you romanticize them, but still turn your noses up at our ways. You want what we have, yet you look down on us for what we do in order to earn it. We are required to strip ourselves of everything that makes us human, become something inanimate; perfect until we are nothing but an overworked, obedient shell only to be looked at by the same men we kill ourselves to become worthy of as _boring_ and uninteresting. What did you give up for your husband? What hours of useless language, music, dance classes did you take to impress conceited, judgmental women who will scoff at the very idea of you in their presence, let alone their son's, if you even have a hair out of place? What were your school marks like? Were they flawless so that your magical ability is proven in writing? The magical ability that will never go to use because you don't actually do much as a witch when your duty is to sit there, shut up, and look pretty next to your husband. Were you run down and pounded mentally into the ground by every single person including your parents at the pressures to be flawless? Of course not, of course you didn't do any of that. You're _nothing_. You're revolting, and not only because you're a worthless mudblood, but also because you were tasteless enough to take a real wizard from real witches simply because you're everything that we're not, and you did it without any shame, without any guilt when you _know_ you don't deserve such a man. These men don't want us, they aren't impressed by our efforts, but our efforts are never really for _them_ , are they?" Astoria spat and Draco winced, not unfamiliar with the idea that pure-blood women were more or less unwanted by them, but only just recognizing a sense of guilt at the fact. The room was deathly silent, and everyone in it seemed to be completely still as they watched and listened to Astoria unload years of fury onto this girl. Draco faintly felt his magic burn around him oddly as Astoria's strong emotions pulled at their bonds, communicating to him her fury as well as her deep sadness that was accompanied by jealousy, jealousy for this girl who did nothing but be the opposite of who Astoria was currently to take her brother away from her.

He did want her, and he was never impressed by her efforts because he had grown to expect them and looked at them from a negative perspective because, as she said, the efforts weren't for him.

"They're for the system, the cycle. We are all the same to them, and as soon as we show any shred of personality.. Well, good pure-blood ladies don't have _those_ , do they? But you're just so interesting, aren't you? Flawed, poor mannered, _fun_. You just give them that thrill of rebellion that we all crave. I'm sure your parents are even proud of you at the most unimpressive nonsense, even when you get yourself pregnant at school like a common slag. Isn't it lovely how we have to keep ourselves perfectly untouched, perfectly innocent because only a virgin is good enough for our men while they have their fun and make it a game to try and ruin as many of us as they can because at the end of the day we mean nothing to them, why not use us for target practice? Who could blame them really, we aren't _special_ like you are. Here we are, boring and pure, yet you can be fun and sleep with them and still somehow take them from us. Of course your kind can never take the nasty ones either, you take the _good_ ones that one of us may have actually been able to stand not offing ourselves after being married to them for a few months. Why do you take from a world that isn't yours? What right do you have? Aw, are your feelings hurt yet?" Astoria broke herself off to laugh lightly, the sound no more than a collection of breaths. "You don't know what it means to have your feelings hurt you pathetic slut. Oh, was it hard being called a mudblood sometimes at school? Hmm? No, hurt feelings are when you give everything, _everything_ to make your parents pleased and they still compare you to another, still turn their noses up to you as if you could have done better. Hurt feelings are when your husband that you would do anything and everything for should he merely snap his fingers goes off and sleeps with other women every night because you're just not exciting and new enough for him, but don't you dare think of doing the same unless you want to be thrown out to the streets, stripped of everything you ever had. Hurt feelings are when after you've worked so hard for a name, the empty title that everyone tells you is so important to get you to the top you then find that all there is at the top is emptiness. Loneliness. And there is nothing, absolutely nothing you can do about it besides restart the cycle by doing your duty as a wife and raising your husband's children. Perhaps, if you're not too uninteresting, perhaps you can make him somewhat fond of you, but it's hard to remember how to be human enough to be interesting when you've spent your life being told to rid yourself of any traces of it. Hurt feelings are when you have earned the rights to respect that a man simply gets to demand, and he still doesn't give it to you. Hurt feelings are when a mudblood comes along and takes something so important from you and leaves you with nothing but a destroyed family and the sense of not being good enough for someone who promised you you always would be. Hurt feelings are when family chooses a stranger over someone who had adored them from the moment they had been born. So please, go cry to your friends that you actually have, your parents who actually care, or of course your husband who actually loves you, and tell them how badly I hurt your feelings when I'm finished with you, and just gain satisfaction in the fact that I have no one to go to with mine. I have to suck it up because no one cares, and weakness is unattractive, and you are worth nothing if you are unattractive. Gain the satisfaction that we have no one to love us unconditionally, not even our own parents, and no one who loves us enough to stick around when something new and shiny walks past."

Astoria paused, looking the girl up and down for a few moments before adjusting her own attire, smoothing down her hair.

"Well, I suppose I'm assuming too much, aren't I? Let's really get a look at what's going on in your head, what you're insecure about," she said darkly. The woman cried out words of protest, in what he assumed to be a response to Astoria invading her head space.

"What, you don't like it? That's unfortunate. If you want to be one of us you'll have to surrender everything you hold private. You're not allowed privacy, so let's hope you don't have any demons. Let's see then.. Look at you, so insecure, as if you have a right. Why are you insecure? What consequences do you have to face for being the ordinary, trashy mudblood that you are? You still have your prize, don't you? Ah, but you can't provide your one duty as a wife because you're not a true woman after all. All of your children die, including the one that you baited your husband with into losing it all. How pitiful to be such a failure at something so simple, so natural as a woman. The regret your husband must feel choosing you.. How sad. Here, perhaps I can provide you with some comfort, yes? Would you like that? Well, take into consideration that no silly mudblood whore would be permitted to prance along and create a branch of filth in the Greengrass line. Let's hope the fetus you're carrying now is female, and then perhaps you won't run into the same tragic issues you've had with your previous pregnancies. If you do manage to have a child, make sure to tell her that you killed all of her brothers because you're a selfish, greedy and stupid mudblood who tried to be something she could never even imagine being. I suppose I can understand why you have plucked up the courage to show your horrific face here as you need an example of what a real witch looks like, but I must say that you're completely unwanted by me, my family, and my people just as your unwanted by your pathetic muggle father and even your husband who just can't seem to move on and be satisfied with you. It's a joke that you would even believe it possible that anyone would find you satisfying. You're nothing but an easy shag in the broom closets, seeing as anyone would be too embarrassed to sleep with you anywhere else." The woman in front of his wife could seem to only stare wide-eyed at Astoria, tears running down her face as she was openly scorned in front of a room full of people who believed her to be as low as dirt, no one offering her any protection or way out.

"How dare you believe that you could stand before me as if you were my equal. Actually, I'd prefer you to kneel, I'm feeling theatric today." The woman's legs buckled and she was forcefully brought to her knees under Astoria's focused and cold stare. "Did you make sure to get all of that down on your little clipboard, _Hermione_? Darling?" Astoria looked around for Granger and a small, crazed giggle fell from her lips when she couldn't find her.

"Astoria," Draco began, feeling as though he needed to end this before she truly attacked the woman. It was exactly what they didn't need when his home was filled with Aurors who were hoping for something like this to happen right under their noses, besides the fact that this was beneath his wife, and she wasn't thinking straight to be allowed to act on her own impulses. Eld certainly wasn't doing shit to handle the situation, as she was just standing there observing the two in fascination.

"Its unfortunate for you that your fellow mudblood trusted me enough to leave you alone with me. Perhaps stupidity is just an unavoidable trait of your kind, but I suppose I _am_ a good actress. I'm not the only one of my blood who pretends to tolerate you rats when in reality your presence turns my stomach, am I? You have to have come to recognize good acting by now. I can't imagine how sick I'd feel laying beside you every night, a constant reminder of my biggest mistake. I honestly can't understand how your still _alive_ , but my father is a man of fairness and choices I suppose. Well, I'm not him." Astoria was moving now, moving for her wand and Draco stiffened, repeating her name again loudly, but she didn't so much as flinch at the sound.

"Draco. I would advise that you do something about your wife," he heard Joseph say tensely behind him.

"Surely you were told not to show your face around here just as your husband was told, just as he was warned. It seems you did not listen to that warning, or him," Astoria cooed, stepping towards her even closer as she trained her wand towards her. She tsked, tilting her head to one side. "Can't even follow your husband's directions? Why, I can't imagine what positive qualities are left for you to posses. I'll have to show you the consequences of not listening to the warnings of those above you."

"One," Draco began counting as if she were a child, raising his wand to the back of her. He truly did not want to use magic on his wife in defense of the girl who broke up her family, but he was being left with no choice. "Two."

He heard her wand clatter to the floor as she stumbled back to face him, looking at him with a fearful and searching expression, her face clear of the hateful appearance she had been holding only moments ago. In only a small moment she had switched back to appearing small and innocent, unable to really hurt anyone and he faintly wondered if he was going mad. Daphne made a strangled sound of shock beside them, her gaze directed at the entrance of the room where Edric Greengrass stood frozen, looking as if he was unable to move himself. Astoria's eyes moved from Draco to the man there, their matching eyes meeting each other and holding on. It was likely Edric could feel his wife's predicament just as Draco had felt his wife and Draco, perhaps foolishly, had left his wards open to the Greengrass bloodline. Astoria's whole body shook, her eyes filling with grief and Draco moved to reach out to her, fearing she may fall. She moved back before he could grab her, tripping backwards and nearly running from the room as a familiar smoke-like substance pooled at her ankles. His head snapped over to find the Pensieve uncovered and filling the room.

Daphne ripped her gaze from her brother herself, seeming to lean towards the direction Astoria was going in order to follow her before she froze at the change in the room, their surroundings dissolving into the memory they were forced into.

"Astoria, love," Sylvia Nott called a much younger Astoria over to her, her eyes gleaming with something cruel as she smiled at her. "Come here, won't you?"

Astoria blinked and walked over to the woman, looking up at her curiously as her pink tinted cheeks were pushed up with her smile. She twisted slightly where she stood almost impatiently, the skirts of her powder blue dress moving with her.

"I was wondering if you could find your brother for me. I know he recently finished school, and I wanted to ask him about that. I think I saw him stray from the event and go outside.."

"Alright," Astoria replied, scowling. "But I've never seen you two talk before, _ever_."

"Don't talk back like that or people will think of you as a brat. Go on then," Sylvia quipped, motioning her away.

Astoria pressed her lips together, watching her with her scowl for a moment before turning her heel and scanning the ballroom, looking for the exit before slipping out of it. She walked around the building for a while, glancing down the street at the nearly empty town area before turning to slip around the back of the building until she spotted her brother speaking with the muggle-born girl and two older muggles with her. Astoria frowned and squatted down, sneaking around to remain unnoticed as she got close enough to hear them.

"-got her pregnant. You're expected to take responsibility," the muggle man said, his voice strong.

"It's fine, Uncle. You don't have to-" Ophelia said, looking mortified and upset.

"I do have to! How could you both be so irresponsible, so-"

"Mr. Hale. I'm prepared to take care of it, but please keep your voice down," Edric interrupted him, looking behind them towards the building, appearing tense.

"Why? Are you embarrassed? That you should be!"

"Frank," the muggle woman said, shaking her head. "Cornering him this way isn't going to help anyone, and is only making the situation worse. How do you plan on taking care of this, Edric? I do hope you plan on _actually_ taking responsibility."

"I will figure it out, Mrs. Hale," he said, his mostly calm tone sounding slightly strained. "You will have to give me a bit more-"

"No. You will go by _our_ timeline," the man directed. "Do you have any idea how serious this is?"

"Mum," Ophelia said quietly, squeezing her eyes shut. "Please, can you both give us a moment?"  
"Well, I'm not finished. It's not just up to your mother when-"

"We can talk about this all together in a more appropriate setting," Mrs. Hale said harshly, grabbing her brother's arm. "Let them talk. Ophelia, we will be waiting by the robe shop."

"I'm sorry," the girl began as they walked away, looking up at Edric. "I'm so sorry. They made me tell you we had to meet immediately, I don't think they actually thought it through, I-"

"It's alright, Ophelia," Edric said softly, his eyes unfocused. "This is very bad."

"I know!" She rushed out. "I know.. I'm sorry. I really just.. I don't know what to do. I'm just sorry. I'll fix it. I don't know what I'll do, but I will fix it."

Edric's eyes fell to the girl when she started to cry, covering her face with her hands as she turned away from him. His face softened slightly and he turned her around, tilting her head up towards him with his hand. "I will take care of it, Ophelia. It isn't your fault. I was careless," he told her gently, brushing her hair out of her face.

"We are so stupid," she sniffled, looking up at him tearfully. "So, so stupid."

"We are," he agreed gravely, inclining his head forward to grace her lips with his. "But we will still get through this."

She looked surprised at his kiss, searching his eyes in both confusion and happiness. "You're kissing me still? We are out of school now.."

"Yes, well. You're also pregnant with my child, which falters my plans for a clean break considerably."

Astoria slowly shrunk back, retreating to where she came from, panic covering her face as she nearly ran back around the building, entering the loud and crowded event once more where she tried to side step Sylvia, but the woman stepped in front of her.

"Did you find him? Are you alright? You look spooked." Astoria ignored her and squeezed past her, heading to the other side of the room and away from her father.

She ducked next to the older couples there, attempting to catch her breath as she bumped into an older witch who snapped at her, complaining about her lack of manners. She ignored them, her eyes looking across the room wildly, her body stilling when her eyes found her father's as he stood next to Sylvia. He held her gaze for several moments, his face slowly twisting into fury before he broke it, starting towards her. Astoria tripped as she attempted to navigate her way out of his sight, scrambling back up to sprint towards the exit again, her feet pounding against the ground as she ran back around the building and all the way towards her brother who was now alone as he stood there, appearing much more stressed and unsure without the girl with him.

"E-Edric," Astoria grabbed onto him, sobbing as she looked behind her frantically. "He saw.. Father saw.. What I saw.. What you did.. P-Please don't leave. He's so angry.. He's so, so angry.. I'm sorry! Please don't be mad at me! I'm sorry!"

Edric stared down at his sister worriedly, shaking his head slightly with confusion as he took in her words. The color drained from his face as realization dawned on him and he knelt down, his body stiff as he kissed her forehead, wincing when she began to choke on her sobs.

"I will only give you two options, Edric, and you will only have one chance to choose so listen carefully. You will forget the mudblood, and I will dispose of her appropriately so she will not go opening her mouth the same way she has opened her legs and so she will not go birthing filth to this world that holds our blood that has been tarnished by hers. Or, you will go with the mudblood and you will disappear. You will no longer be recognized by this family, and you will never see any of us again. But, if you can keep your mudblood safe, you can keep her."

Edric looked at his father who had approached them, his overall composure calm aside from his furious eyes, his smooth voice threatening to slip into a snarl as he spoke.

"I can't let you do anything to her," Edric responded finally, his usually sure voice broken and hesitant.

"No, no, no," Astoria cried, grabbing desperately at her brother's suit. "Please d-don't.. Don't do this to me! I love you.. Don't you love me? Please, Edric!"

"So you've made your choice then," Aldrich said, his eyes flashing dangerously and his nostrils flaring.

"No! Choose us instead!" The small girl was barely coherent as she tried to speak through her despairing cries, her face smeared with tears.

"No, he doesn't love you, Astoria. He loves his mudblood," Aldrich hissed. "Come with me. Now."

"Please.. P-Please don't go! Take me with you! Please, I'm sorry! Please don't leave me! I love you, E-E-" Astoria's stream of desperate pleadings were cut off as she was strangled by her sobs, crying out loudly in protest when her father yanked her away from her brother as she clung to him.

Edric's body shook as his sister was torn from his arms, tears falling from his eyes as he watched her get dragged away, wailing for him.

"Mum," he croaked out, finally managing to speak as she approached, watching her pleadingly as she wouldn't look at him as she calmly followed her husband, her expression cold.

"Leave, Edric. Don't come back. You aren't wanted," she told him, her tone holding no emotion.

Aldrich, his eyes growing more furious as tried to get a handle on his struggling daughter, decidedly apparated, leaving Freya behind.

Aldrich dragged Astoria through the Greengrass mansion, pushing her into a random room as she continued to weep, choking out unintelligible begging.

"Astoria," he snarled, his eyes wild now with his loss of temper. "You are not to cry over blood traitors. You have exactly three seconds to silence yourself or I will give you a legitimate reason to cry, do you understand?"

Astoria shook her head hard, holding up her hands as she stepped back away from him.

"One."

Astoria whimpered loudly as she tried to stop her cries, holding her her stomach as she shook.

"Two," he said, his voice dangerously quiet as he drew his wand carefully, pointing at her.

She took more steps back in fear as a fresh set of sobs slipped past her lips, looking up at him in anticipation as her reddened face glistened in result of being soaked in her sorrows.

"That's three, Astoria."

Astoria grabbed at her face wildly, her eyes looking around the room as if she couldn't focus on anything. "I can't s-s.. I c-can't hear!"

"Crucio."

The little girl's screams ripped through the entire mansion and she doubled over before falling to the floor in her extreme pain. Aldrich's eyes narrowed at the sound, his wrist twisting slightly as he held the spell on his small daughter for much too long, especially for someone so young. The girl began to gag, her nails digging into the floorboards desperately as she struggled to suck in more breath before more screams spilled from her lips, her voice quickly becoming hoarse. The next time she ran out of breath, causing her screams to pause as she twisted and writhed on the floor, she seemed unable to gather in another breath, her weak and tiny body seemingly having enough as it fell into unconsciousness.

Aldrich lifted the torture spell from the limp girl, his wand lowering slowly as he stared through his child as if he was completely far gone from his mind before he raised his wand again to place a silencing charm on Astoria before leaving his daughter broken on the floor.

Instead of fading, the memory shifted back slightly to Freya apparating into the Greengrass home shortly after her husband. She walked forward quietly, looking around to see where they had gone before the screams began, her body jerking to a halt, her stance losing composure as her hand reached out to steady herself against the wall as her eyes filled with shock and horror. A tremor rocked through the woman's body and she clumsily slid down the wall she had reached out to, her hands violently shaking as she brought them up slowly to cover her ears, her eyes squeezing shut as she endured her child's screams. She cried out in fear when her daughter's torture didn't seem to end, and she clapped a hand over her sobbing mouth when everything went completely silent. Freya didn't move for many minutes, and the only sound in the mansion was Freya's muffled weeping as she held her hand tightly over her lips before she forced herself up, stumbling through the halls as she searched for the source of the previous screams. She jumped when knocker sounded, seeming to fight with herself on going to the door or not as she needed to get to her child. The knocker was heard again and the sound of the house-elf opening the door and announcing the two Aurors flooded the home.

"Mrs. Greengrass.. Are you alright? We were passing by that gathering your lot was having on patrol and we saw your family leave in a bit of a rush. Is Aldrich home?" One of the visiting Aurors asked when Freya managed to compose herself enough to go to the door.

"O-Of course I'm wonderful," She responded to the man on the right, not meeting his eyes. "He's out. We are all alright of course. My daughter fell ill. We had to leave early."

"We thought we heard screaming when we were coming up," the one on the left said, watching her face closely.

"Yes.. That was Astoria. She has night terrors."

The same Auror stepped forward, watching her cautiously. "Mrs. Greengrass, are you sure everything is fine? You don't have to lie. If your family is being mistreated you shouldn't be afraid to report it, your husband working with the Ministry often or not. He looked very angry from what we saw, chasing after your daughter. Was she the same one screaming?"

Freya met the man's eyes, opening her mouth to speak before the Auror on the right snorted loudly, smiling at Freya. "Sorry, Mrs. Greengrass. We don't mean to come unannounced to your home accusing your husband. Aldrich is one of the only one of those stiff pure-blood types I can stand."

Freya faltered, glancing back towards the other Auror, looking just below his gaze again. "It's quite alright. We appreciate your concern, but everything is perfectly fine with us. Thank you for your efforts, even if they were unnecessary."

"Well, that's our job," the same Auror said, nodding. "Besides, who wants to miss a chance to get a look at one of these insane castles you people call houses? I was feeling a little too good about myself until now, thank you for that. Ah, to live your life of luxury."

"Yes," Freya replied, smiling tightly. "Well, normally I would invite you in, but I really have to tend to my daughter."

"Of course! Of course, Mrs. Greengrass. We hope she feels better!"

Freya slowly backed away from the large door after she closed it on the two men, her eyes refilling with rears before she resumed frantically looking for her child.

"Tiptoe! Where is Astoria!" Freya cried out in frustration.

"Master told Tiptoe to let her sit by herself," the house-elf replied, appearing next to Freya.

"Tell me where she is! She isn't making any noise!"

"Master has taken Astoria's voice away. Astoria was making too much noise," Tiptoe explained.

" _Tell me where she is_ ," Freya snarled at the elf, yanking open more doors furiously.

"Master told Tiptoe to let her sit by herself."

" _I'm_ your master as well, you worthless thing!"

"Tiptoe is trying her best," the elf sniffled, its ears flattening. "But Master to told Tiptoe to-"

"Enough!" Freya snapped, pulling out her wand to begin on the locked doors.

Finally, Freya managed to open to door to where Astoria was curled against the wall in the dark and Freya lurched forward, falling to her knees next to her, drawing her into her trembling arms. "Astoria, love, please tell me what hurts and what you can move properly," she told her gently, her voice breaking.

Astoria didn't say anything as her hands moved weakly to cling to her mother, her hands searching the same as her eyes were. "Astoria," Freya repeated. "Tori?"

Freya whimpered desperately as she carefully lifted Astoria from the floor when she didn't respond again, taking her from the room.

"Master told Tiptoe to let her sit by herself," the elf said nervously, following Freya.

"She can't hear me," Freya said through her teeth. "Or see me."

"Mater took Astoria's eyes and ears away so she could sit by herself."

Freya slammed the door to Astoria's room on the elf, taking her to her bed and curling around her, holding her gingerly as she tried to hold back her sobs. "I'm sorry," she wept, brushing the hair out of the child's face. "I'm so sorry. My baby.. I should h-have done s-something.. Forgive me." She kissed her daughter's face shakily as she cried with her, eventually forced to call for the house-elf again for pain potions.

Draco's head spun as the Pensieve retracted its hold on the room, his stomach rejecting everything he had just seen, threatening to make him sick as he felt around for something to hold onto. He was unable to focus his attention on anything or anyone and their reactions, only faintly registering the distressed cry from Daphne as she reacted to what she had seen. He needed to move, he needed to go to Astoria.

She was sitting by herself.


	52. Chapter 52

Draco ignored Granger as she called for him after frantically returning to the group of them, her rush of words incoherent and unimportant to him as he briskly left the room, starting on the stairs before cursing impatiently and apparating, Granger's near shriek of his name changing volume as he switched locations of the Manor so abruptly.

Draco found Astoria sitting on the floor of his bedroom, her back against the side of his bed with her knees pulled up to her chest. She was humming to herself, her eyes tightly shut as she gently rocked herself. Draco wasn't sure his heart could sink lower than it had been before entering the room, but seeing his wife so openly broken immediately after seeing her tortured into unconsciousness by her own father made his whole being feel lower than the Earth.

She heard him as he took a step towards her, her eyes opening to meet his before she looked away, shaking her head. "I-I'm sorry, Draco. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it that far. I know it made us look horrible.. I'll fix it it. I'll do something. I'm sorry," she rushed out, her voice breaking more than once. "I lost my temper.. H-He.. H-" Astoria closed her eyes again fiercely, covering her mouth with her hand as she began to shake her head over and over.

He walked towards her, sinking to the ground as he was unable to bring himself to tower over her and dominate her personal space in her vulnerable state, crawling the small remaining length of distance between them. Astoria went obediently still as he approached, frozen in her movements before he gently took her into his arms, slowly shifting her into his lap. She allowed it, her body completely tense as she held her breath before she began apologizing again, seeming fearful of what he was doing as if he would hurt her. "I can never listen properly," she whimpered.

"Relax, love," he murmured when he settled her in his lap, rubbing her arms as he tried to calm her. "I'm not angry with you."

"I almost.. He.. D-Draco," she forced out the words that seemed to be caught in her throat, bracing her hands on the side of her face.

He could see her struggling to reject the fact that she had just come face to face with her brother who she intentionally kept from her mind as much as she could, attempting to remove it and him from her memory all together. The emotions he felt from her through their bonds felt differently now, the burning of her anger was gone, and instead he felt the strangling sadness she was working to reject.

"Edric. Your brother. I know," he murmured and she sucked in a breath at his words, leaning away from him slightly as she shook her head once more.

"D-Don't say that. I don't have-"

"Astoria. You're upset about your brother. You're upset about losing him, and you're upset about seeing him again now. It's alright. You're _allowed_ to be upset about your family and losing a member of it," he told her firmly, his chest aching as she recoiled from him, feeling guilty for hurting her with what he was telling her, but feeling it was necessary.

He remembered the memory of his own mother learning of her sister being disowned, seeing her break down in the Great Hall, sneered at by his father but still defended by another. She had gotten a chance to mourn her sibling being thrust from the family, a sister who she loved, but still didn't have the close relationship his wife seemed to have with her brother. Being denied that basic right to mourn over something or someone that had been lost, at least for a small while, was not justified or necessary in order to act accordingly for _appearances_ later on. There had been no reason for Astoria, a child, to be told she wasn't allowed to be upset over the fact that she would never see her older brother again, no reason to be tortured mercilessly for being human.

She was physically trying to remove herself from his lap now. Not very successfully, as she seemed completely overwhelmed, unsure of what to do with herself or how to react. She wasn't breathing again, and the choked sounds coming from her throat as her chin quivered and her eyes threatened to spill over constricted his own breathing as well. He dragged her back into his lap properly, pulling her wrists from her face gently before running a hand down the side of her warmed face, caressing it and he found his hand trembling as he watched her struggle. A woman with such a face, such a will to please and be wanted did not deserve to suffer the way she had, his sweet Astoria.

"Breathe," he urged her. "It's okay to breathe, it's okay to cry. It's okay to feel."

She tore her lip biting into it as she fought his words and herself as a tear dripped from where it had gathered in her eye, racing down her face and off of her chin. He closed his eyes when blood formed on her pale pink mouth, shivering in his own suffering at seeing his wife like this. He leaned forward, kissing her eyes which closed themselves as he approached them, feeling another tear escape from where it had pooled after it was pushed at the motion of her closing her eyes for his gesture.

"It's okay to cry," he murmured, pulling back slightly from her face.

Astoria broke apart in his arms then, a defeated sob leaving her mouth as she hung her head, causing his hand to go past her head which led to him sliding it down her back, moving it up and down gently. He noticed her shaking then, and not only shaking with her cries. She was trembling in fear, and her body was tensing in anticipation as she expressed her emotions. He tried to control his fury at this, afraid she may feel it and misinterpret it, and he swallowed the bile in his throat before carefully guiding her head to his chest.

"I'm not going to be angry with you, sweetheart. It's okay. _I'm_ telling you it's okay. Forget what anyone else has told you. You're with me, and no one else is here," he said slowly, fighting to keep his words soothing when his sentences progressed as he thought of the cause of her fear.

She wrapped her arms around his neck slowly, pressing her face into his neck as she wept. He held her tighter, beginning to rock her the same way she had been rocking herself, trying to hum one of the same melodies he had heard her hum. Perhaps he didn't know the best way to handle a situation like this, but he wanted to provide her some of the comforts that she had always been forced to provide herself. He wished he had taken more time to know her aside from rummaging through her head with no real emotional investments in what was there, wished he hadn't been so extremely cold to her in situations that he could have handled much better. She was his _wife_ , his family, and Merlin knows he didn't have much of one. He had been nervous to truly care for her in his own insecurities of being hurt as a result, but she still was patient and kept trying. It was true that she didn't have any other choice but to keep trying or else she would be alone, but the circumstances they had been given ever since they were born were not her fault, and he couldn't continue to fault her for trying to make the best out of things. All of her words to that girl, the hard truth of what it was to be one of them, a woman specifically, rang horribly true to him. He didn't want Astoria in the slightest when they had been married, had found her incredibly boring though he knew he still would have scoffed at her had she not been the mundane, perfect pure-blood young woman his wife was meant to be. He had made it a special challenge with his mates to try and soil the women from his community, had made it a game as he never cared of their reputations that would be tarnished or their parents they would have to face. No, he had never tried to run off with a mudblood for the thrill of it, but he had always held an animosity towards the women of his world simply for doing what they were taught to do just as he had always done.

"W-Why didn't h-he love me enough? Why w-weren't we e-enough?" She cried into his chest, barely understandable through her tears as well as being muffled by his skin. "I'm _never_ enough." She sneered out the last words, and they were ground out of her throat as if she meant to burn herself with them. The pure and raw self-loathing mixed with her sorrows in her voice stunned him with striking pain and familiarity.

"You are enough, Astoria," he told her sadly. "You're enough for me."

She didn't answer as she wept, clinging closer to him. He moved his arms to support her as he slowly lifted her off of the floor, settling them onto the bed instead as he moved to stroke her hair after pulling it down. He pressed his lips to the places of her he could reach on her face and head, comforting her with the little he had to offer as he allowed her to finally mourn properly, naturally.

"I don't want to love him anymore," she whimpered, a tremor rolling through her, vibrating her in his arms. "He isn't mine anymore."

Draco said nothing as he pressed another kiss to her temple, unable to find an appropriate response to that. He wasn't hers, and he wouldn't want to love him either if he were her. He didn't want her to have to keep loving someone who would never be in her life again.

"H-He couldn't even.." She trailed off and Draco heard the fresh wave of sobs building in her throat before she swallowed them down to speak. "He couldn't even t-tell me that he l-loved me."

Yes, the idiot couldn't even find his voice to tell his hysterical sister that he loved her as she was crying her own love out to him and asking him if he loved her back. He couldn't bring himself to be fair towards him, not with his witch in his arms shattered this way.

"He definitely doesn't n-now after what I s-said to her."

"She shouldn't have been here," Draco said stiffly. "And I doubt he was aware that she was. I can't believe him to be that foolish."

Astoria's weeping was beginning to calm and Draco shifted to stroke her arms with his fingertips. "You certainly did not hold back on her, I will say. Where were you when I was trying to effectively hurt Potter and his friends at school? Perhaps I actually would have accomplished something. Women truly are crueler than men with their words."

"I don't want to be cruel," she whispered, childlike hiccups in result of her heavy sobbing jerking her body in his arms. "I wish I wasn't."

"You're not cruel. You just have the ability to be."

She pressed her face back into him, crying on and off in small spurts for some time as he continued to hold her, kissing her, caressing her, humming for her, and giving her someone to cling to as he waited patiently for her to run out of tears.

"Your insults _were_ always very bad," she muttered, pulling back from his now sticky skin a bit to press her hands against her eyes, rubbing them.

"Coming for _my_ throat now, are you?"

Astoria pulled back to look at him and he assessed her red, puffy eyes and stained cheeks, brushing his thumb over the tip of her perfect reddened nose before touching the dried blood on her swollen lip, frowning at the small harm she had inflicted upon herself.

What type of evil did someone have to be in order to intentionally harm her?

Apparently the type of evil he was, as he had intentionally hurt her himself.

"I'm sorry, Astoria," he told her softly, forcing himself to hold her gaze though he wanted to look away in his discomfort and shame.

He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for more out of everything his two words stood for. Her abuse, her abandonment, her upbringing until now, or the things he was accounted for such as his attitude towards her, his temper he had shown her that he was surely to always have, his selfish desire not to get attached to her in order to protect himself, the way he had made her feel less than enough just as he had always felt and struggled with. He didn't want to be the closed off person he was to her, he didn't want either of them to deal with that loneliness anymore. He had to try more for the sake of both of them, and for the sake of their children that would have to grow up in the same world they were forced to.

Surprise and warmth colored her eyes as she watched his before her eyes fell to her hand that was moving to grab his, pressing it against her cheek. "It's not your fault," she told him, her weak voice somehow still firm. "It's no one's fault."

"It's everyone's fault. That's the mess of it all." Draco rubbed his thumb against her cheek as she pushed it into his hand, watching her in remorse. "You're so beautiful."

"You're being really nice," she replied timidly. "When I didn't listen to you and put us in danger."

"I've gotten used to your lack of listening skills."

Astoria's expression darkened after she spoke her words, her gaze becoming unfocused. "Are.. _They_ still here?"

"Well, I'd say if they were intelligent then they wouldn't be, but we've already seen that they aren't, so I'm not sure. I didn't say anything to them."

"What do you mean? You didn't come up to me for a long time.. Surely something was said.."

Draco shook his head, figuring he shouldn't inform her that a room full of people witnessed her trauma, the trauma that she didn't even seem to acknowledge herself.

"Miss Granger is wishing for Master's attention sir," his house-elf announced, having popped itself in the room. "Yippy knows Master hates when Yippy intrudes, but Miss Granger won't stop insisting."

"Tell her to fuck off. My wife's distress is more important than their useless investigation," Draco snapped.

"The bad wizards have covered Master's manor in their magic, sir. Miss Granger's friend has been hurt trying to to disappear, sir, but not to worry, sir. The bad wizards will not be able to break Master's wards. Yippy is positive."

Both him and his wife went still and Astoria grabbed his face wildly, searching his eyes. "Draco-"

"And why was I not informed of this immediately? Why were the wards not set off?" He demanded, moving Astoria off of his lap gently to stand, walking towards the door. "Astoria stay in here. I will come back up to you in a moment." Draco didn't want to leave her there, but he definitely couldn't bring her with him should her brother and his wife still be there, or bring her in front of all of the pitiful glances from those who witnessed the memory.

"Malfoy. You can't just _leave_ when I-"

"I can do whatever I bloody well please, Granger. It's my fucking house," he sneered as he rejoined the rest of the people in his home. "Tell me what's going on."

"It seems an Anti-Disapparition Jinx has been placed over the Manor. Aiken has been hurt trying to disapparate. We can't-"

"That shouldn't be possible," Draco said dismissively. "Perhaps your Auror is just an idiot."

"Well by all means then," Granger said coolly. " _You_ attempt disapparating from the property, but for the time being we can't leave. So-"

Draco laughed loudly. "You'll be leaving my house either in one piece or several. Absolutely not will I be allowing you to stay here. My wards have not been set off, there obviously has been a mistake on your end."

"They obviously got around your wards, Malfoy," Granger hissed. "Don't you understand? They've trapped us, and eventually they will find their way in."

"They won't be finding their way in. Anyway, if they're here isn't that good for you? You wanted to find them. Go get them," he said dully, though he could feel the fear building inside of him.  
"That's exactly what they're aiming for! They are baiting us! Who knows how many are out there, or perhaps there aren't any and they are attempting to draw all of our major Aurors in and trap-"

"You're informing me that you're _so_ incredibly unprepared that you can't handle an _Anti-Apparition Jink_?" He demanded, stepping towards her in disbelief. "Do you understand how completely worthless your whole team of idiots are?"

"We are just witches and wizards the same as you, Malfoy, we aren't superhuman. Besides, I agree that-"

"Obviously we have seen that you people are nothing special. No need to remind me."

"If you would stop interrupting me that would-"

"No," he said simply. "I don't think I will."

"When will you grow up? Honestly, we aren't at Hogwarts anymore, and we are in danger. Collectively."

"No, but you are in my home, and I'm rather unhappy about it.." His words slowed near the end as his gaze moved through the room, falling on Astoria's disowned brother and his wife.

They both looked a mess, quite unsurprisingly, and Daphne was still trying to collect herself from her own length of tears. Adrian was beside her rubbing her back comfortingly, looking haunted himself. Theodore was no longer in the room, and Draco was grateful he didn't have to see Nott's face at the moment, a small piece of him wondering if he would have been the better comfort for his wife.

".. Harry and Ron are off with the _important_ Aurors out of country working with the Ministries of some of the suspected origins of some of these new Death Eaters," Granger rambled on bitterly, drawing his attention back in.

"Aw, upset your boyfriends don't find you skilled enough to take you with them on the real work and instead leave you here to babysit us?" He asked mockingly, earning a fierce glare from her.

"Just agree to stay in the Manor and cooperate. Don't cause any trouble while we are working through this, don't try to contact the Death Eaters and make any deals with them, don't-"

"Make any deals with them?" Draco asked coldly. "Do you not understand where my family stood with the Dark Lord?"

"-Don't cause trouble with the rest of the people in the Manor. I came in here and everyone is in tears and upset. I left you alone for _five minutes_ , and-"

"You're blaming me for that?" Draco scoffed. "Classic, Granger. Yes, everything is my fault. Every crying child in the world, every rainy day. It's all me. Let's ignore the fact that you decided it was a good plan to bring the woman who caused her brother to be disowned to-"

"I had no idea that's who she was! I wasn't even aware that the Greengrass family had a son! If I had then I wouldn't have brought her, even _I_ know that isn't appropriate, Malfoy."

"Oh, so you actually have a small amount of sense? I never would have gathered. Apparently your prestigious psychologist does not know appropriate from inappropriate. Odd considering her profession."

"You knew about this, Novalie?" Granger asked, turning to her accusingly. "I certainly hope not. Our goal is not to antagonize."

"I knew who she was, Hermione. As did the Ministry. The Ministry did not mind her coming in contact with the Greengrass girls, actually, but I did inform her that she would not see the girls specifically. However, we were caught by surprise," Eld answered smoothly, nodding her head.

"Caught by surprise? You still could have told me!" Granger shook her head irritably. "How incredibly insensitive for both women. Even I know that!"

"When will you learn that pure-blood women only have interest in themselves, Granger? Acting if they are on your side or not. They are only really ever on their side."

"It was not my intention to hurt anyone," Eld said, frowning. "But yes I acknowledge that it was insensitive, and I apologize to you, Ophelia, and I will apologize to Astoria when she comes down."

"She should not have been involved at all," Edric said coldly, not looking at anyone as he spoke. "But you're right, appearing right in front of my sisters' face was _not_ appropriate for Ophelia to do."

Granger glanced at Edric before shaking her head. "I will continue this with you when the more pressing matters have been solved, Novalie, but I'm very unhappy. All of you _please_ just.. Behave while we figure this out," she expressed, her voice tense as she gave them all a final once over before leaving the room to join her coworkers.

"Don't call us your sisters," Daphne said quietly after Granger left, her tear stained face staring forward stoically. "We are _not_ your family. You made that perfectly clear."

"Daphne," Edric started, his voice regretful. "I didn't-"

"Don't address me!" She cried, looking at him as tears began gathering in her eyes once more. "Don't speak to me, don't even _look_ at me. You have no right, not after what you have caused. You left me, you left Astoria, you left mother, and because of you I lost _both_ of my siblings. Was it worth it? Did you enjoy seeing our sister pay for your choice to abandon us? We trusted you, believed your promises. You let us down."

"I know," he replied, closing his eyes. "I know, and I'm sorry. I will never stop feeling sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix anything," Daphne choked out. "Sorry doesn't fix my family, sorry doesn't take back what we just saw. Astoria paid for your girlfriend's life with her own, and I c-can't believe.. I can't believe I didn't know.."

"Don't blame yourself for not suspecting something so unspeakable, so utterly revolting and unforgivable from a man who dares to call himself a father," Joseph spat. "There is no excuse, blood traitor in the family or not."

"Yeah, you can't really blame Edric for that, dove," Pucey said, looking uneasy as he tried to soothe her.

"I can blame him for whatever I please," Daphne said, pushing away from her husband, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm furiously. "Had he been able to keep his dick to himself things would be so much different, so much better."

"Daphne," Edric's wife started, the sound of her weak and broken voice matching the appearance of her face. "Edric loves both of you. What happened to Astoria.. That.."

Draco had to be fair and give credit to the girl. It was certainly a wonder how she still had concern for these girls, especially Astoria, after how she had been treated by her in front of strangers who couldn't care less about her life.

"He loves you more. Obviously," Daphne said flatly. "After my sister just destroyed you one would think that you wouldn't go poking at me."  
Edric shook his head, pulling his wife closer to his side protectively. "Please let her be, Daphne. The fault of the mess is mine, not hers. Aside from the fact that she came here despite what I've told her, she is not responsible for what happened to our family. I do not love her more, but you saw the position I was in, and I never would have expected that result." Edric's eyes clouded in regret and anger. "Our father never lost his temper that way, never _hurt_ any of us that way."

"Yes, well. You really figured out how to push him over the edge. Good work," Daphne snapped. "I want to see her now, Draco."

"Don't talk about what we saw, Daphne," Draco said levelly. "Astoria doesn't seem to.. Acknowledge it. Doesn't seem to acknowledge quite a bit, actually."

"Don't pretend to care for her, Malfoy," Edric told him, his eyes flashing. "Not after some of the things you've done, some of the things I've had the misfortune of learning about."

"The things I've done?" Draco laughed incredulously, narrowing his eyes at him, wondering how he could possibly know anything about their marriage. "You say that to me just after my wife was sobbing to me that you couldn't even tell her that you loved her back? After she was wondering why she wasn't good enough for you?"

He cringed, rubbing a hand over his face as he looked away from him. "I don't know why I couldn't tell her I loved her back that night," he said, plain hatred for himself in his face and tone. "I don't know."

"Explain what you mean, Draco. It sounds something like disassociation, what you're saying about Astoria. I don't know if you all realize the psychological damage-"

"I think we all realize it." Draco looked Eld up and down, irritated at the thoughtful look on her face.

"I know we are all stunned emotionally at the moment," Joseph said slowly. "But we've also been all captured in this home together, and I hate to wonder if my son was right. I don't think we are in danger right this moment, but i do believe we will be, and once we are it will all come very quickly. We need to be prepared, as we all know how useful those Aurors are by now."

"I don't care if they are in the Manor right this moment," Daphne said, pulling completely from Adrian's grasp. "I'm going to see my sister before I think of anything else."


	53. Chapter 53

Freya Krat fought at the arms pulling her from the edge of the Astronomy Tower, ripping her nails into the flesh of them savagely as she shrieked out her tearful protests.

_No, no, no!_

She needed it to be over. It had to be over. She couldn't do it anymore, she couldn't do any of it. She'd had everything stolen from her, and she couldn't allow her peace to be stolen from her as well. She kicked roughly at the strong figure that held her. He was slightly thinner than the man she had grown used to holding her, the man she loved.

The man she no longer had.

She sobbed in desperation, completely blinded by her hot tears, not hearing the words spoken in her ear through the loud, deafening ringing as her world seemed to be moving so, so slowly. Why was everything going so slow? She needed to hurry, hurry so the agony would end.

"Let me go!" She tried to scream the words at the man trying to take her freedom from her, just as men had always take everything from her, but the words did not sound like the scream she had intended to create through her impaired senses. "Let me go," she sobbed again. "Let me die. _Please_ let me die! Please!"

_Please, please.._

Instead of releasing her, she was dragged down to the ground and she wailed with defeat, shoving with weak arms at the chest she was being pulled towards, her arms feeling numb and powerless as her whole body buzzed along with the fierce ringing in the ears. Pain she had come to know well consumed her chest, taking her breath away. She had thought she had gotten used to pain, thought she had outsmarted it, thought her heart was not able to break more than it already had been broken. She had been wrong, very wrong, and she was just so _tired_ of hurting. There was nothing left for her, no way out of this dark, miserable existence she never asked to be brought into.

She had had enough.

But she deserved this pain, as this pain was her fault. She should take responsibility, she should have to live with and suffer through it. She had earned that suffering, but as she was the coward she always had been she couldn't do it. She had to escape it.

"It hurts," she whimpered, too done to care how pathetic and pitiful she seemed. Who was she trying to act strong for? What was the point? "It hurts, and I'm tired."

What did it matter? Nothing mattered. _She_ didn't matter, she never mattered.

Her face was hot, she learned this when cool knuckles brushed down her face through the wet streak of tears she had made there, the mess likely mixed with bits of her running mascara. She pressed her wet skin up against the fingers instinctively, the chilled touch feeling nice against her salt covered face. An odd cloak of calmness covered her and she stopped her struggling, the blaring in her ears dulling enough to hear the man communicating to her. She stopped pushing against his body, her hands limply resting against it and she realized a wet stickiness under her nails and it faintly occurred to her that she had torn into this man's skin aggressively enough to draw his blood.

So much blood on her hands, on all of their hands, forever staining them.

"Shh," he soothed. "Let me see, let me see what is hurting you, love."

Aldrich Greengrass.

Freya shook her head roughly, preparing to start struggling again, but her limbs wouldn't move. "Just let me go. I have nothing to offer you," she whispered, her eyes still leaking relentlessly.

"I believe I disagree," he replied, his voice far too calm and clear.

Her world was crashing down on her, her lungs felt as though they were collapsing in on her chest, the seams of her sanity that she had tried forever to keep together were finally breaking apart.

How was he so calm when she was so unhinged? Surely the pain was enough for him to be affected too.

She sobbed again, crying out her protests once more as she gathered enough of her senses to resume pushing at him, not that that helped anything. Her head throbbed with her sorrows, and her tears slipped into her mouth for her to taste her own failure, her failure at never letting anyone break her. Here she was, breaking in the arms of Aldrich Greengrass, the man who had just denied her her chance to gain peace, but she was never allowed to make her own choices, was she? Not even when it came to her own life. She should expect as much by now. She began to fight harder again. Kicking him, hitting him, trying to hurt him enough for him to release his grip enough for her to get away. He grabbed her wrists firmly, leaving her to only cry out angrily at him as she wept, her pulse quickening as she began gulping in breaths, panicking. Aldrich moved a hand from her wrist to wrap into her hair, the hair that she had for once pulled down to end her life, guiding her head back as he made her lay back across his lap, the brightness of the moon and the stars blurred in her emotional vision as she was forced to look at them. She felt it again, that forced calmness, and her breath slowly slipped back into a more appropriate rhythm, her cries of anger and fight quieting.

"Let me see," he told her, his voice terrifyingly silken and inviting in a way that made her want to do what he was telling her, made her want to do as she was asked. "Let me in, and I will reward you."

Why was she still fighting? She didn't want to fight anymore. They had won. Everyone had won.

She closed her eyes in defeat, letting herself go completely still in his arms as her body shook, feeling him touch her mind and pull at every nearly unbearable memory she had. The pangs of sharp pain into her heart killed her more at every piece he pulled through, but only for a moment as each time he made her relive one it was as if he was pulling the pain with him, taking it from her. Everything that she was, everything that made her her, was coursing through her head as she wanted to jump to her death, every bittersweet memory, every haunting ache, every violent night, as well as what had broken her that evening was being quieted for the moment.

He was relieving her as she gave to him, _rewarding_ her as he had promised.

It was so good, the peace she had been grasping for, and she needed it.

She needed _him_.

Freya reached up to grab onto the front of his sweater, pulling him closer greedily as he drank her in, providing her her freedom from her sorrow's gasp, if only just for the moment. She whimpered at the freshest wounds before they were taken from her as if they were being blown away as easily as small candle flames. She trembled as the weight of their crushing presence was lifted from her, feeling as though she was finally in real bliss when he had finished. This man was good, so good to her. She knew he was someone to be feared, a man she had always avoided, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything anymore. She could breathe, and she couldn't remember the last time she didn't feel haunted as she didn't feel haunted then. Even in her brief moments of light she had still felt the darkness of her world weighing her down, but now there was nothing. Only the ghosts of the sadness and pain that she knew existed but couldn't connect to as if she were separated from those memories all together.

"My sweet, sweet witch," he purred, his tone low and hungry in a way that should have repelled her, but instead sounded so alluring to her thankful soul as she struggled to pull herself up in order to be closer to him. "What have you gotten yourself into? Don't worry, I will keep your secrets for myself."

He helped her sit up against him, her legs sliding easily around his waist as her arms went around his shoulders, her face nuzzling into his throat as she shuddered again. He had all of her truth now, all of the demons that came with her truth. Then again, did it count as her truth when she couldn't feel it then in his arms due to him being the marvelous wizard that he was?

"Good girl," he cooed. "Do you see how lovely it can be to be good for me?"

The fingers he still held her hair with began messaging into her scalp, lulling her into her tiredness that she didn't realize was so thick against her senses until then and she rolled her head against his shoulder, pleasure spreading through her as he rubbed her head, his other hand resting deliciously on the side of her thigh when she squeezed her legs more tightly around him. She nodded slightly in response to his words, answering him before letting out a slow breath as she relaxed.

"So much pain," he mused, his finger moving down her leg and drawing slow circles into the skin that had been exposed as her skirt had been pulled up in result of her straddling him the way she was. "So much hatred, my love, but for yourself more than anyone else. The amount of self-loathing you hold is alarming."

She hummed as his words slipped off of her, none of them attaching themselves to any feelings she recognized at the moment as she was floating in her peace. She rolled her head up again, pushing her nose against his collar bone and she lazily kissed him there, feeling oddly affectionate towards him.

How could she not be affectionate towards the man who had given her such a prize?

"I'm going to take you back to your dorm now, and you're going to sleep. When you wake up, you're going to feel all of your misfortunes properly once more, but you have gotten over the initial shock now. Now you will not be impulsive, and you can handle it just as you always have handled everything with strength. You're my fierce witch, Freya. Prove me correct, and don't try to throw yourself away again," he told her, his voice light but still serious. "You're mine."

She shook her head, though not at the comment that she would normally be shaking her head at, tightening her hold on him. She didn't want him to leave, she was afraid to be alone in the state she was in. He had comforted her, and she had never been comforted so effectively before. She didn't want those feelings to come back, she didn't want to feel as though death would feel better once more. Life felt good in that moment under the stars she loved so much and the breeze chilling her in a way that made her feel human, _he_ felt good. He felt safe, and unlike the man she loved he felt right for her, someone she was meant to be with as he lived in the same darkness she did. Especially now that he now _understood_ her in a way no one ever had, and likely never would. She didn't feel so trapped within her horrors anymore now that she had released them.

She pushed her hands under his sweater and the shirt underneath it, moving her hands against the warmth there with her fingers that were dirtied with his own drying blood, curling them so her nails would sink down into him.

He was horrible, she was horrible. They fit, and she wanted to accept it and stop trying to be fight it. She was done fighting her world.

"I am not influencing you to be lustful, my pet. That is you, so don't go pitying yourself about it in the morning if you begin something that I expect you to finish."

She pulled her nails down his naval, hooking her fingers into his pants as she raised her head, her lips grazing along the size of his jaw to the corner of his mouth as she blindly found her way to kiss him, his hand that had gone loose in her hair retightening to push her mouth more securely against his as she kissed him deeply. He seemed to be fully reveling in how she was expressing her desires for him, her desires to finally stop avoiding the inevitable. This man wanted her, and she believed him powerful and intelligent enough to have her if that's what he wanted.

No, he didn't want her. She was already his, and had been ever since that day in class.

She undid his pants, pulling at them just enough to slip her hand down to wrap it around what she wanted, her eyelids growing heavier as the intimate bits of her leapt with anticipation at the contact. She shifted on his lap and pulled the thin bit of fabric between her thighs to the side, impaling herself, not caring to wait very long to give into her dark desires.

She didn't love him like her muggle, but she didn't feel that guilt in being with him, didn't feel as if she were soiling him with her touch.

He took a hold of her hips now, pushing her down just how he wanted, pivoting his hips to hit her in just the right spot as he took control. She didn't mind. He could have whatever he wanted from her then, and she would surrender it to him. She moaned and reconnected their lips, biting and sucking at his lower as she pushed both of her hands into his hair, not needing to find her own balance as he was fully and capably holding her as her drove himself up into her.

If it was control he wanted, he could have it.

This was exactly what she wanted. She was in no position to be having sweet, falsely romantic sex with this man, and even though she was cloaked in this cloud of serenity at the moment she still had her senses. No, this quick, improper release of need and surrender as she mourned the way out she knew she would never get a chance at again, knew she would listen to him and not attempt to end her life again was exactly what she needed. Fucking the exact type of man she had always fought to stay away from was symbolic in its own way, and it should have sickened her how relieving it felt to feel in place.

She supposed she would be sickened in the morning.

He tasted wonderful in her mouth as their tongues met, sending her into another frenzy of twisted need as she freely threw all of her pride at him, pleading to him to give her more, to give it to her harder.

She was _begging_ him. Fuck, she _hated_ herself.

His hair was soft between her fingers, and she pulled at it how he pulled at hers, listening to his irritable growl as she pulled his head back slightly to kiss his neck, gasping in slight pain when he thrust unnecessarily violently into her. She bit into the skin of his throat roughly, sucking it hard enough to mark him for the next days to come, an odd gurgling purr of complete pleasure spilling from her nearly drooling lips as he pounded up into her mercilessly.

Her breath cut off at the peak of her ecstasy and her teeth were in his flesh once more as she convulsed around him. If she didn't feel spent before, she certainly felt spent now.

"If you loathed yourself before then I can only imagine how you will feel in the morning when you fully realize what you have done after what has only just occurred to you," he chuckled softly once he was finished with her himself, his voice still lovely to her ears though he was saying something unpleasant to her and laughing at her misfortune that he was predicting. "Again, this is what _you_ desired in your own impulses that you don't think through. I've done nothing more than relieve you of your heartache. I won't put up with you claiming anything different."

Freya inhaled his scent, closing her eyes as she was drifting, accepting his words uncaringly as her body thrummed in the after effects of their sex. He could ruin her with what he knew, he could ruin her with the simple fact she had just gotten into his lap and shagged him, but she didn't care anymore. She was already ruined, and she didn't believe this man would expose her anyway as she believed him that he did want her. He wouldn't ruin the reputation of his future wife.

"But who am I to deny my wife's desires?" His voice had crept down into a purr again and she rubbed her face into his marked skin.

Weak, she was so weak. A coward finally accepting her place as she was always told she should.

"Try not to be too hard on yourself when you wake up, my love. Don't be too hard on my sweet witch," he tsked, his thumbs circling themselves against the skin of her hips that he was holding, still inside her body. "It felt so good to forget, didn't it?"

Freya sat across from Aldrich on the train weeks later, feeling completely out of place next to him while not sitting beside the same man who she had sat beside ever since she had started Hogwarts.

"This ring will start harming me once we are married, yes? As I have to dance with other men."

He paused his eyes on the book he was reading, looking past the edge of the pages for a moment before he flicked his eyes up to meet hers with a dull expression before dropping them back to his book, resuming his reading.

"Well?" She pressed, scowling irritably at his show of ignoring her.

"Do you really need me to answer such a ridiculous question?"

Freya narrowed her eyes, crossing her leg over the other, shaking it impatiently. "I don't _need_ you to answer, but obviously-"

" _Stop_ fidgeting," he ordered her flatly, glancing at her leg in aggravation.

She shifted again, dropping her leg back onto the floor of the train, releasing a stream of air from her nose as she stared him down.

"Of course. Don't be stupid," he finally answered.

"I'm not stupid."

"Listen carefully with your ears, darling. You know the English language well, do you not? I told you to not _be_ stupid, not that you _are_ stupid," he drawled, turning a page of his book slowly.

"So this is how you're going to be? For the rest of ours lives?" She quipped, crossing her arms over her chest, uncaring of how out of line she was being.

"And what exactly does 'this' entail exactly?"

"Difficult."

His lips played at a smirk, but he still didn't look up at her and leave his focus on his stupid book. "Is that what you believe I am being? Difficult?"

"Isn't that what I just said? And you act as if I ask unnecessary questions."

"I will entertain your attitude to a point as it amuses me, but do be careful with my boundaries."

"My attitude? Funny, I thought you _enjoyed_ my attitude seeing as that's when you really decided to stalk me," she spat coldly, sitting back against the seat as she stared at nothing bitterly.

"Ah, and yet you chose to marry me. You chose to give yourself to me when I was not asking for it, chose to betray your little friend to my parents in your agreement to giving yourself to my family, and you chose to put that ring on your finger. I had no part in any of it aside from expressing my interest in you to my parents."

"Yes. As I believe you know by now I take full responsibility for my own misery. I'd say _interest_ is a rather gentle word in place of obsession, don't you think?"

"Obsession," he repeated, chuckling darkly. "You do love to flatter yourself in hopes it will mask your abundant supply of insecurities."

Freya hummed, unable to disagree with him. Much to her disappointment in herself she still found his voice incredibly alluring, and he had an elegance about him that calmed a part of her, attracted her.

"My interest in you was not in result of your insolence," he told her dismissively.

"Then for what? Because I'm so beautiful?" She sneered at him.

"You are beautiful," he answered simply, eliciting a snort from her and she looked away, rolling her eyes.

"But no, though I don't have to deny that, do I? You're a very talented witch, and how you handle yourself and your demons intrigues me. You're intelligent, though you don't always act like it."

"Wow. You're so sweet. I feel properly romanced now," she replied, her tone emotionless.

"Do you need romancing? It seems you spread your legs for me either way."

Shame coursed through her and she grit her teeth, upset at both his words and the reaction he had drawn from her. She didn't want to give him the emotional responses he wanted from her.

"I am perfectly capable of romancing you if that's what you would like," he told her gently, his voice reminding her of liquid pouring down in a perfect stream, pouring down on her. "Whatever you want, my sweet witch, but I don't believe you truly want to be in love with me. That may just break you completely, accepting such a defeat. I am a man of mercy."

"You could never make me love you," she snapped coldly, her posture falling ever so slightly. "I don't have any left to give."

"I disagree. To both statements." He looked up at her, waiting until she met his cool colored eyes that were so contrasting to his dark features. "Luckily for your sanity I do not require your love, only your loyalty. Actually, I may get a bit bored if you were to love me. Your hatred makes you so enticingly passionate, and you have so much of it. It's intoxicating. No, but you will be loyal to me and you will obey. You will be as I expect you to be, and you will fit my family name as a Greengrass wife should fit. These are simple rules, my love. Do try not to break them. I may be merciful, but I have my limits. Though I'm sure once you reach them you will learn quickly not to ever reach them again."

"What will you do, _darling_?" She scoffed, keeping her eyes on his. "My father wasn't very creative when he hurt me in his drunken rages, but his son made up for his lack of imagination more than once."

"Violence isn't a talent of mine. You surrendered your mind to me, and not just that but your feelings as well, your emotional reactions to your horrors. I've had them, could have them again, and just as I could take them away for you for a small while I could give them to you in any way I want. All at once, one at a time, I could heighten the pain. Anything I please. If you feel as though things were unbearable that night at the Astronomy tower, well, I assure you that I could make that night seem like something easy compared to how I could harm you with merely your own mind, your own experiences, your own emotions." His voice was light as he spoke, a honeyed edge to it, and he spoke with such sureness and confidence that she believed him without any doubts towards his words.

She was terrified.

"But I don't want to do that, so perhaps don't bring us to that point, alright? Good. Now, though your disloyalty to the Nott family has benefited me, I must warn you to not ever think of plotting some adorable little revenge on me or my family, not that my family will be around once we are married, but things will not end well for you. No matter how horrible your life may seem, I swear to you it could always get worse."

"Noted," she ground out rigidly, taking his threat very seriously. She couldn't imagine feeling or experiencing worse, but she imagined she never wanted to find out whether or not it were possible.

"Relax, darling. I have a solid hold on my temper, I can assure you."

"Why won't your parents be around?" She asked stoically, not wanting to linger on such an unnerving subject.

"They will leave. They're work here is done. It's doubtful they will even be present to see any children we produce at their births. They don't care. Believe me, they won't be missed."

Freya sat beside her father at the Greengrass home as her father and Aldrich's parents discussed the formal matters of their marriage. She barely listened, barely took in the surroundings of her future home as they spoke in their perfectly charming voices. She had been to the home before of course, but she never cared much to pay attention to the details of the homes she visited for events.

When her father left to use the restroom, that's when her attention was refocused. The faces of Aldrich's parents fell into nothing, only blank stares as their mouths went limp from their plastered smiles and their eyes blinked calmly, their eyes occasionally traveling around the room, not really showing interest in anything they were looking at. Even Aldrich held more warmth and substance than the emptiness of these seemingly hollowed bodies before her as they didn't even bother to keep up even a shred of their act for her, they didn't have to anymore. The atmosphere of the room was suddenly very cold, and the impossible silence that hung in the air was so incredibly uncomfortable that she had to move, her shifting somehow distractingly loud and she became fully aware of the volume of her breathing.

"Aldrich," his mother said finally after a while, offering nothing else besides his name as her voice had lost it's usual sugary coating, not needing to even look at him as he got up in an obedient, almost rehearsed manner and exited the room, following his mother's silent orders as they ignored her presence.

She almost preferred the violence of her family to the lifeless, lonely eeriness of this.

Freya brushed the back of her fingers against her fragile son's sweet face less than a year later, her hand trembling gently in her overwhelming affection. He was so innocent, so small. Perfect. She leaned down to press her nose and lips to his face, inhaling his sweet, newborn scent.

"My baby boy, you're so perfect," she murmured, barely loud enough for even her own ears to hear. "Much too perfect for this world."

"You did well, Freya," Aldrich said quietly from above her. "Thank you."

_Thank you._

Freya looked up at her husband, her eyes still full of her emotion. His expression was so uncharacteristically soft that it stunned her, freezing her there next to him with their son who was weakly squirming in her arms, quiet. He was a quiet baby. Freya held her son to the side of her, towards his father and Aldrich hesitated before lowering himself slowly to sit on the bed beside her. He slowly held out his arms, allowing her to pass Edric to him, Aldrich cradling him with an uncertainty she had never seen from him. He always seemed so sure in everything he did.

"He has your dark hair," she said quietly, running her index finger over the soft, dark hairs on little Edric's head.

He said nothing, silent and unmoving as he stared down at their child, completely still as he held his breath. She watched him for a few moments, slightly alarmed when he still didn't take in a breath. She put a hand over one of his, taking it to slowly guide it to the baby's soft hair.

"He'll look like you," she told him, nodding.

She didn't mind. Her husband was an attractive man, and she didn't want to see traces of her bitter self in her sweet son every time she looked at him.

"You won't break him, you know." Their world would do that instead.

Aldrich inhaled slowly, finally, and he relaxed his arms around their child, his eyes falling back into their familiar, slightly chilled calmness.

"He's a beautiful baby," she whispered. "He deserves better parents."

"Indeed. To both statements."


	54. Chapter 54

"Just give her space for a moment," Draco told Daphne dismissively, waving his hand. The last thing he needed was for her to upset her more.

"Yes, I agree with Draco," Eld said, nodding in agreement. "Let her breathe for now. Excuse me for just a minute.." Eld slipped out of the room, leaving Astoria's brother and his wife the only two outsiders in the room.

Draco eyed the Greengrass male without turning his head toward him, more than aggravated the man was still in his home. The room seemed to be ignoring the unwanted couple all together, and Draco considered throwing them both outside to leave the Manor on foot, though he knew the Aurors wouldn't allow it. The girl was sitting slightly away from her husband, but still sitting beside him while his hand rested tensely against the top of her leg as he watched the room, his expression only showing emotion when his eyes fell on Daphne. Without the mess of a wife he had beside him he appeared to look similarly to the rest of the pure-blood men in the room.

"Don't tell me that I can't see my own sister, Malfoy. You already tried that once, remember? Do you feel good about that now that you've seen what we've just seen? Do you feel like your punishment for your bruised ego was adequate and fair now?" Daphne sneered, her reddened eyes furious and impatient, and Draco's temper flared. He was not in the mood to be spoken down to by the girl, Astoria's sister or not.

"Pucey. Do control your bitch and how she speaks to me in my own house," he replied to her coolly, catching Edric stiffen in the edge of his vision at his words. "I won't tolerate it."

"Would you like to try that again, Malfoy?" Pucey laughed, shaking his head in disbelief as his eyes twitched slightly at him. "I'm not sure who the fuck you think you are speaking to, but call her that again and this friendship I've been so kind to offer you will be retracted."

"Leave it, Adrian. I don't care what he calls me. It's not as if his weak and unoriginal jabs hurt my feelings. We have to get along for the sake of my relationship with Astoria anyway," Daphne told her husband, turning her head towards him as she spoke low for him to hear.

"Nah, we don't have to do shit. You might tolerate people disrespecting what's yours, Malfoy. I don't," Pucey said pleasantly, a cold edge to his tone.

"Is that so? Interesting how you suddenly have so much respect for women, isn't it?"

"I've respect for my wife, and I sure as fuck don't enjoy torturing women as you do."

"I don't know, Pucey. I don't recall ever driving a woman to kill herself."

Pucey's face fell into stone at Draco's words and he moved to draw his wand, his wife grabbing his arm frantically.

"Please stop it! We have enough of a mess as it is without you two going at it! Don't be foolish!"  
Draco smirked, examining Daphne with amusement. "Didn't your parents teach you that a wife doesn't push herself into men's business as if she has a place to speak in such matters? My, you are the failure child, aren't you?"

"What's going on, children?" Rhys inquired, clapping his hands together as he came to sit down with the rest of them. "Be nice, share your toys and all that."

"I'm obviously quite capable of sharing my toys with him. Isn't that right, mate?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at Pucey challengingly before shifting his gaze to his wife pointedly who turned her face away as it flushed with anger.

"This is how you choose to treat my sisters, Malfoy?" Edric asked coldly, his voice wavering a bit in his disgust "This is the respect you show your family?"

"Respect I show my family?" Draco repeated, ignoring Pucey's infuriated reaction to the degradation of his wife. "Interesting coming from the man who abandoned his family for some mudblood he dipped his dick into a few times. Blood traitors don't have a voice in my home, Greengrass, and they do not have a place to tell me how to treat my wife or her sister. Learn that before I decide that your presence should be made known to my wife's lovely father, as we both know the consequences for a disowned child showing their face back in the community."

"Do we all need to be separated? Put in different rooms? Nott, help me out here. We're the adults. We're supposed to monitor the toddlers. Sit the fuck down, Adrian. Don't be ridiculous. We don't need conflict with the ancients."

Joseph looked at Rhys dully before glancing at the rest of them. "Play nicely, children. There are larger issues at hand. Look, my son has run off to be with his friend. Why don't you all scatter off the same." Joseph glanced around Rhys. "Where's the Russian, Pucey? Can't she come mother them? I'm not interested, as none of them are my own children."

"Ukrainian," Adrian corrected, lowering himself back down on the couch beside Daphne reluctantly.

"Up in our room as she was feeling a bit stressed. She wouldn't help the situation anyway. I'm the laid back one, not my wife," Rhys answered, eyeing the silent couple across the room.

"Right. Your women don't know how to act. How could I forget," Nott commented, irritation touching his eyes as he was reminded of his bitterness.

"Aw, now that's not very nice, is it? I'm sure your wife is lovely. That's the mother of your child. Be a bit kinder. She gave you a great gift," Rhys scolded, glancing around. "Where is the gift anyway? And where is Astrid?"

"Off fucking his way out of Azkaban, I'd imagine," Adrian snorted. "Him and that redhead seem friendly. Astoria went upstairs."

"Nott only has an eye for married women. You forget that, Pucey. Perhaps he's plotting how to take your wife from you," Draco said dully. "Or perhaps he simply goes for women who have ever been mine, and in that case my warning to you still applies."

"No, no. Keep your kid away from my family, Nott. We have our own enemies as it is, I don't need shit with your type. It's bad enough I have a Greengrass in my family, but unlike some I am a _great_ friend," Rhys told Joseph firmly, glancing at his daughter-in-law.

"Daphne gets offended when you act like she wasn't a desired wife choice and instead a favor to her mother," Adrian cooed, patting Daphne's head who ducked and leaned away.

"Unlike some?" Joseph scoffed. "And who might you be referring to? The woman you paid a favor to?"

"I am _not_ a favor," Daphne protested. "I come from one of the most well respected-"

"Spare us, would you?" Draco asked her, his tone bored. "We don't need to hear how shiny of a trophy you are."

"Oh, that's _rich_ coming from _Draco Malfoy_ , the man who never let us forget exactly which oh so important family he came from all throughout our Hogwarts years," Daphne shot back.

"Unlike some being you, Nott. You know that, and Daphne it's not personal to you, but I'd rather keep my distance from your father. Didn't rub me right from when I knew him at school," Rhys answered Joseph, both Draco and Daphne.

"Explain to me how I, the one fucked over by our lovely female companion, am the poor friend? I beg you."

"I told you before," Rhys said, shrugging. "I know you did something. Freya has always been trustworthy to me."

"How fortunate for _you,_ and I suppose-"

Rhys sat up with excitement, staring at the Pensieve that had been left uncovered from when it had shown itself on its own accord, unnoticed by Granger most likely in result of her being distracted by her recent fit. "Aha! Finally."

A younger Joseph Nott followed Freya Krat from a reasonable distance away as he eyed her whereabouts incredulously in the unfamiliar environment that appeared to be a quite obvious muggle town. He stopped short when a muggle girl passed Freya, greeting her warmly and exchanging a few words with her before moving on. Joseph's face went flat with anger before he strode forward, grabbing Freya's arm roughly before he yanked her down a nearby alleyway.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing, you complete and utter idiot?" Joseph demanded, spitting his words as he looked back towards the muggles in the distance in plain disgust.

"Y-You can't just _grab_ me like that, Joseph," Freya rushed out, attempting to sound firm and confident though her eyes held panic as she took him in, looking taken off guard by his presence.

"What are you doing here? This is where you've been rushing off to when you're not at my home? Interacting with _muggles_?" He hissed, not releasing his rough grip on her. "I put up with so much shit from you, allow you so much freedom, protect you from so much. I don't know how far you think you can push me. You expect me to accept you as a blood traitor now as well?"

"I'm just taking a class!" She exclaimed, prying at his fingers as she didn't meet his eyes. "They have more to offer on Astronomy than Hogwarts does, and your family had easy access to it. Let me go. You're hurting me."

"You're taking a muggle class," Joseph sneered, only appearing to tighten his hold on her as she winced. " _Speaking_ with one of them. Am I supposed to look the other way while you do this? Is that what you expect me to do?"

"What do you mean 'are you supposed to'? What are you going to do? Tell my father on me? My brother?"

Joseph dropped her arm, stepping away from her as he looked down at her, his face nearly dripping in disgust. "I would never do that, Freya. You asking me that shows just how ungrateful you truly are."

"It's just a class, and-"

"You'll come home. Now."

Freya paused for a moment before she crossed her arms defiantly, narrowing her eyes at him. "Excuse me? I won't have you ordering me about like a dog. I'm not your wife, or-"

"You are _to be_ my wife, we both know that, and no future woman of my family will be taking any classes from or speaking with filth."

"May I remind you that I have access to this place because of your family and their inappropriate ties to the muggle world? Hmm?" Freya asked, tilting her head in a goading fashion. "What would your little Death Eater friends think about that one?"

The memory fell away at that, and Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise, though he wasn't sure why he was surprised after everything he had seen of the family, as they only continued to be revealed as having more and more secrets.

"Well.. Hmm. Interesting," Rhys mused. "You were a dick, not surprising. Freya dipping her toes in the muggle world, a bit surprising, but also not _too_ out of the blue."

"Yes, well. It was shocking to me, and she was being a cunt. It's not as if I deserved the _revenge_ for-"

"What?" Rhys asked, squinting at him before his face fell in realization. "Oh. You're a damn snitch is what you're telling me."

"Mmm. Roderick asked me where she'd been, it's not-"

"You snitched to her brother?" Rhys demanded. "The one who beat her? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"She'd been beaten plenty of times before, with or without me passing along her whereabouts. It hardly warranted what she did to my family."

"See that," Rhys said, motioning with his index finger. "That was spoken like a true shitty friend."

"I'll have to agree with Nott," Draco cut in, shifting his gaze between the two men. "From what I've seen, and I've seen more than I've cared to, he was more than reasonable for far too long."

"If he thought he was being reasonable he would have told me what he did."

"I didn't know," Nott snapped. "I didn't know that _that_ was what she had been so upset about. Not until the woman _broke_ into my house, ranting and raving about nonsense."

"I don't understand.." Daphne said slowly, her face curling in disgust. "Why would she go to a muggle town.. If anyone had found out.."

"Who cares? She took a class at a muggle school. I was hoping for something much more interesting," Rhys sighed, looking disappointed. "And someone did find out, and he didn't keep his mouth shut."

"As she said, Daphne," Ophelia told her, her face coming together in a scowl. "The muggle school offered more than Hogwarts."

"Ophelia," Edric said warningly.

"I'm just answering her question, Edric," she breathed. "Am I not allowed to speak at all?"

"I have no idea how muggles or their offspring could ever possibly offer anything that we could not," Daphne replied, hatred in her eyes as she regarded the woman.

The woman took a deep, irritable breath before opening her notes, and Draco narrowed his eyes at them suspiciously.

"What are you doing?" Adrian asked, squinting at her as she began to write.

"I'm doing my job."

"Going to write about how the Greengrass girls need to be arrested? Oh, and that their father is a criminal, are you?" Draco asked her, though looking at Edric as he spoke.

"Of course not. Do you think I'm an idiot?" Ophelia asked, shaking her head in irritation. "No, that's not what-"

"Is that a real question?" Draco scoffed loudly, watching Edric's face change to indicate fair agreement to his reaction to his wife's question.

Ophelia turned to her husband, noticing his reaction herself. "Are you joking?"

"You're here, are you not?" Edric asked levelly. "His only impression of you is that. What conclusion regarding your intelligence would you believe he would come to based on that fact alone?"

"And you agree with him in how he thinks I'm an idiot."

"That's not what I said, but still. Here you are. After I advised-"

"So what now? Are you going to berate me to tears as well? Was I not punished for my mistake enough? You don't have to say it in order to give that impression. I suppose you believe I _deserved_ it too."

"Mmm. I believe you should have listened to me, but instead you have to show how independent you are to all of your friends by acting like a fool."

"I've always put up with my self worth being belittled ever since I came into contact with you, even before I _disobeyed_ you, but of course it's my fault. Because I was stupid and should have listened to Edric who is so much smarter than me. Because I'm a _mudblood_. Silly me," Ophelia sneered, pushing her notes aside.

"I apologize, I forgot the hardships I have brought down on your life. Perhaps I should have allowed my father to kill you, as apparently I am nothing but a burden," he said, his voice still smooth. "He still may, seeing as you've brought us somewhere where we ought not be showing our faces. Then at least people won't say such mean things to you anymore."

"Fuck you, Edric," the woman said shakily, tears brimming her eyes. "I've _always_ been appreciative of you, but that doesn't invalidate this treatment I've had to put up with, and then you sit here and _agree_ with these terrible men who have no respect for women or human beings in general. Seeing as you fit in so well, why don't you go ahead and stay here? It's where you've always belonged, isn't it? I know you've always regretted choosing me, so by all means."

"Are you done?"

"Yes," she answered her husband through gritted teeth. "I believe I am."

"You cannot just go wandering through this house," Edric said calmly as his wife got up and began to exit the room. "And I am not one to chase after anyone, so do not force me."

"Yes," Draco confirmed, watching the girl move across the room. "I agree with the statement that you cannot go wandering through my house."

"I liked the part where she said 'fuck you, Edric'," Daphne chimed, smiling in her brother's direction without humor.

"What is the benefit of having a mudblood wife exactly? When she speaks to you with such disrespect?" Joseph asked, his lip curling slightly at the retreating woman.

Edric took a deep breath when his wife ignored him and disappeared from sight completely, letting out his breath slowly as he looked around the room for a while before standing, following the woman out of the room.

"Alright, that spat aside, let us return to the issue at hand," Rhys said, looking back to Joseph.

"You just saw her in the muggle town? Nothing else?" Adrian asked, an odd look in his eye.

"What else would I have seen, Pucey?" Joseph asked, examining him.

"Yes, what else would he have seen, Adrian?" Rhys asked his son, looking intrigued. "Seems you know something we don't."

"Oh good," Draco muttered, watching the Pensieve act up again in response to the words being exchanged, accepting the scene the Pensieve presented them.

"Hey," a large, dark skinned muggle man said, catching Freya's arm as she walked up to a small, weakly fenced home. "What's this I hear about you and some cloaked man up in the alleys?"

Freya grimaced and she jerked her arm back instinctively, his hand sliding down it as his eyes fell to the bruises forming there. "It's nothing, Abraham. I just-"

"It's nothing?!" He demanded, examining her arm more closely, his accent oddly foreign. "Don't you play that, Freya! Who was it? _Enough_ with the damn secrets. What am I to you that I'm not allowed to know? I sure as hell have a right to know what son of a bitch put hands on my woman and why."

Freya flinched away from him and shook her head, pulling away from him to walk towards the house. "Your mother will go off if we are late for dinner, Abe," she murmured. "She still hates me from when I told her my family was Pagan, even though they aren't even Pagans, I just thought-"

"Don't flinch away from me like that, honey. I hate it," the man groaned, tugging her back by her hand gently. "And don't try and change the subject either. Tell me what happened."

"It was just a man I know from school. Joseph. I've told you about him. I bruise easily, now just _relax_ , and don't raise your voice at me like that. It's nothing"

"Someone you call a friend put bruises on you? Someone from your school is _here_?"

"Freya!" A small child exclaimed happily from the doorway of the old home. "Come in! Abe's been _so_ boring all. Day. Long."

Freya smirked up at him, patting his chest. "You hear that, love? You're so boring she can hardly stand it."

The girl ran forward to grasp onto Freya's hands, dragging her inside the home. "Mama keeps goin' on about Christmas dinner. She doesn't want to prepare it all by herself, but I told her me and you could help, but then she started complainin' about how your spoiled rotten butt didn't know how to cook," she giggled, her eyes glittering with amusement as she looked up at Freya and then at the man following behind the two of them. "I just told her that Abey could do the cookin' and cleanin' when ya'll are married. Isn't that right, Abe?"

"Hell no, not unless Princess Freya wants to get her little spoiled rotten ass out there and work under the sun all damn day," the man scoffed.

The little girl gasped, reaching past Freya to smack at the large man. "You aren't supposed to say that word in front of me! I'll tell mama!"

"Yes, Abraham," Freya scolded him. "Watch your mouth. Your mother is trying to raise a little lady. Besides, I'm sure I could get you to do anything I'd like you to do."

"I bet that too! You're whipped, boy," the little girl teased, grinning at him. "W-H-I-P-P-E-D. Bet you can't spell it neither."

"You're about to be whipped out back if you don't knock it off," he grunted, flicking the girl's forehead. "Faith? A lady? Not with that loud mouth."

"Freya says she loves my mouth, and _she's_ a real lady. Bet she knows way handsomer boys than you even. She just feels bad for you 'cause you're slow, just like mama says so."

"Yeah, if Freya were a proper lady I don't think she'd put up with little brats like you."

"I'm so happy you're here for Christmas break," Faith said, looking up at Freya as she ignored her brother's comment. "I missed you so much."

"Did you? Well, you're the only reason I made the trip back if I'm being honest," Freya whispered loudly, glancing at her male beside her before winking at the small girl who looked up at her brother smugly.

"Hear that, Abe?"

"The only thing Abe better be hearin' is the sound of all of your butts hitting these chairs!" A woman's voice came loudly from the kitchen and all three of them shuffled into a tiny dining room around a small, worn dinner table.

"They were fighting outside, mama," Faith quipped, giving Abraham a look.

"Mmm. Well. Couples break up all the time, don't they?" The older dark skinned woman mused, eyeing Freya with a slight resentment in her eye.

"Mama," Abraham said flatly, giving his mother a dull look.

"They can't break up," Faith said firmly. "Freya is my best friend."

Freya looked at her with surprise, a warm smile crossing her features as she admired the little girl who looked up and smiled widely back at her.

"It's not a safe relationship, or even a good fit in my opinion. Klan activity has been-"

"Mama," Abraham said again, more seriously this time. "Let it be please."

"Not that I have a lotta friends to begin with," Faith went on, ignoring her mother. "It's hard goin' to the school I'm at. No one wants to be my friend. I try real hard, but the girls just make fun of my hair and my backpack and all this other stuff that I don't get."

"Girls who pick on other girls are the ones with the most insecurities. Don't feel bad, Faith," Freya told her quietly. "Just keep your head even higher than theirs, and act as if you believe yourself better than they believe themselves. They won't be able to say anything to you. Even when you're feeling the lowest, if the world sees you as if you're feeling the highest that is what you will be."

"Well, who knows how much longer you'll be goin' to that school anyhow," the older woman sighed.  
"I have to go to that school," Faith protested sadly. "I wanna be somebody one day."

"You _are_ somebody, you don't need no white school to make you somebody."

Faith slid down in her chair slightly, looking disappointed. "It's okay, mama. I know we don't have the money."

"I have the money," Freya said frowning and shaking her head. "Let me give you the money."

"Now, just who do you think you are comin' into my home with your pity money?" The woman asked, looking her up and down with disgust. "What do we look like to you? A charity?"

Freya inhaled deeply, staring at the table before removing the diamond earrings from her ears, dropping them on the table. "I threw these in my bags before I came without even looking. I don't even remember where they came from. Sell them, and you'll have more than the money you need. I have dresses in my luggage that probably cost more than what this house is worth that I'll only wear once, if at all. The money is nothing to me. If I was treating your family like a charity I would have been offering money long before when Abraham was killing himself with work in the summer. Your daughter's future is not worth less than your pride, Mrs. Johnson. Education is _important_ , especially for a girl who will grow up to a lot of men trying to tell her that her mind is less than theirs. Don't you dare do that to your child. Pride will get you _no where_ ," Freya said harshly, watching the woman closely. "Let my money go to something important for once instead of the nonsense it usually goes to."

Mrs. Johnson stared back at the girl challenging her for a few moments, the room completely silent as the two women looked at each other.

"Well. It's nice to finally meet you, Miss Krat," the woman sniffed, passing out plates on the table. "As this is the first time you've actually been real with me. I'll.. Think about what you're saying. Leave it for now."

Freya pressed her lips together before nodding towards the window. "While we are on the subject of being 'real'.. those curtains are absolutely horrendous, and they've bothered me since the first time I saw them."

"Don't push it."

Faith gasped loudly, scrambling away from the window that she was seated besides. "Abe!" She cried, tearing up as she pointed out the window that was glowing with the reflection of flames.

Abraham pulled her back carefully away from the window, his mother quickly rushing out of the room. Freya stood slowly, moving towards the window to look out of it. She went completely still as she stared at the covered figures, torches in their hands, their faces covered by masks that led up into points.

"Freya. Duck down," Abraham hissed as his mother cut the lights off in the room. "Now."

Freya didn't move as she stared at the cloaked figures, the color draining from her face as it was covered with a haunted expression. She finally walked back when her name was said again, tripping down into a kneeling position next to Abraham who pulled her back against him on the floor. Faith crawled forward to hug herself to Freya, crying quietly in fear.

"Is that them?" Freya asked stiffly, her eyes distant.

"Mmm. Marching for their desire for 'purification' of the country," he muttered, and Freya appeared as though she may be sick as she listened to his words. "Not as widespread as they once were, but they still make an effort to create a stir every now and again. Mad they're losing all their support from their beloved country."

The memory blurred forward to Freya and the muggle walking together outside, and the weather had changed into a warmer setting as she hung onto him as they strolled along.

"How lovely." The couple turned around as the soft words were spoken by the smiling wizard that had been following them, a crazed look flashing in the wizard's eyes every few moments as he tilted his head as he looked at the two.

"Zabini.." Freya said slowly, stepping back as her face fell in horror.

"I followed you," the man said in an odd, manic tone. "Nott's home offers little to one's interests.. Especially when I can follow little birds and be led to such wonderful nests of secrets.."

"Freya," Abraham started, eyeing the man in confusion. "What's this?"

"What's this indeed," Nero Zabini purred, grinning slowly at the muggle. "Does it feel better fucking muggles than it does us? Does it make you feel dirty? Don't reach for your wand.. If I reach for mine you won't like it.."

Freya stopped, holding up her hands slowly in surrender. "Zabini," Freya said again through clenched teeth. "Cut the shit. What do you want in order for your silence?"

"I'm not sure at the moment," Nero breathed, moving his legs to begin circling the couple as he eyed them curiously. "Perhaps nothing. Perhaps I'll save my information for a rainy day.. Allowing you to quiver in fear.. Anxiously awaiting for when and if I decide to share your sweet little secret.."

"Zabini, please-"

"Goodbye, Freya Krat," Nero chuckled after moving forward swiftly to grab Freya by her hair and tilt her head to the side to utter the words in her ear.

"And here I was thinking you were full of shit when you acted as if you didn't understand racism," Abraham muttered coldly as he watched the man leave. "Your lips need to start movin', honey. Because what the-"

"I have to go," Freya whispered, staring after the direction where Nero had gone.  
"Go where?" The man asked, bewildered. "Listen-"

"I have to go home," she whimpered, her face already dripping with her tears. "This isn't where I belong. You're going to get _hurt_ because of me. I can't.. I can't stay.. That can't be my fault."

"Hey," he started, concern filling his eyes as he caught the smaller witch in his arms. "You belong with me. This.. This muggle thing.. Your people.. I've been having a hard time with it, but you've also been very messy explaining it to me, but I can get it. I can get it, and we will be on the same page. Come on, baby. Don't cry."

"Just _get it_ when I tell you this," Freya choked out, panic in her eyes as she pulled at his hold on her. "I have to leave. I should have never come. I'm so sorry, but I can't be responsible.. I couldn't bear it if I brought any harm to you.. To your family.. Please forgive me.."

The scene was replaced again, and Freya was opening her mail in her dorm at Hogwarts, sighing when she reached a particular letter. When she opened the parcel a piece of newspaper fell to the ground, and she glanced down at it at her feet before opening the letter that was attached, scanning the words quickly as the emotion slipped from her face, her expression turning to frozen anticipation as she read the words from her brother.

"You shouldn't have tried to leave.

It seems Nott has finally proved himself reliable.

Thank him for me in person, won't you?"

Freya dropped the letter, reaching down to gather the small piece of newspaper shakily, a strangled gasp leaving her throat as she comprehended the headline of the muggle paper, a picture of the muggles she had been with in previous memories beneath the words.

"Three Dead Including Child as Johnson Family Perishes in Unexplained Fire"

The paper fell from her hands as Freya began to violently tremble, her eyes searching blindl as she tried to handle the blow. She doubled over, holding her stomach as if in physical pain, her face twisting into sorrow as she began to gasp out short sobs in disbelief and heartbreak. She dropped to the ground, bracing herself against her hands as she fell apart in despair, curling into a ball on the floor of her dorm, the rest of the dorm completely silence in its emptiness as she cried by herself.

Freya eventually picked herself up from the ground numbly, exiting her dorm stoically as well as her common room, staring at the ground as she walked through the halls of Hogwarts, pushing through the crowds of students as her face was covered in her drying tears and running mascara. Joseph Nott noticed her as she passed him, turning from Lucius Malfoy to grab her arm in alarm, searching her face in confusion.

"Freya? What is it?"

She ripped her arm away furiously, fresh tears spilling from her eyes as she refused to look at Joseph, stumbling away from him before she turned to walk more quickly up the stairs of the castle, ignoring Narcissa's confused calls. Joseph shook his head as he looked up at the ceiling in irritation before turning back to his conversation, Narcissa reluctantly pulling her gaze from Freya's retreating figure as well, not attempting to follow her as she made her way to the Astronomy tower, falling into her broken sobs once more.

Freya roughly yanked her hair down, pulling and breaking the jewelry from her body as she threw it aside before climbing up the rails shakily, leaning forward without hesitation or second thought to fall forward before Aldrich Greengrass swiftly moved forward to catch the unhinged woman before falling.

"No, no. No such waste will be made tonight, my love."

 


	55. Chapter 55

 

Joseph had gotten up and left the room before Draco could properly comprehend his surroundings once the Pensieve had retracted its hold on them, the rest of the room completely stunned into silence aside from Joseph’s abrupt exit. It was absolutely no wonder Nero Zabini had been killed for his knowledge. If it were his own wife holding such a scandal being threatened then he would most likely have to consider doing the same. The images of the muggle and his mother-in-law were a bit too foreign for him to process properly. Muggles were an unfamiliar species all together, not to mention muggles in such a different country from his own. The Nott scandal had not been one that Draco had paid a lot of his attention to when it came to the details, and he wasn’t sure how all of that situation related. However, seeing the woman come so close to taking her own life disturbed him to no end.  
 ****

The pure-blood women, their pure-blood women, were known to occasionally off themselves when they couldn’t handle their roles or the loneliness of their lives, but actually seeing a woman attempt such an act was another matter entirely. Draco remembered fearing for his own mother at times when everything was quiet when he come home from Hogwarts, and he found his mother so lonely with herself, her beautiful face occasionally haunted with their family’s demons. Though it was useless to worry. His mother would never take herself from him, leaving him only with his father. Not to mention the fact that if Narcissa Malfoy wanted to die, Narcissa Malfoy would die, her son worrying about her or not. 

Draco wondered for a moment whether Joseph was upset at the fact his old friend nearly killed herself in result of something he did, or if he was upset at the fact his old friend seemingly fucked a muggle. He was sure it was probably a bit of both if even a fraction of the Joseph in his youth still remained. 

It seemed Aldrich Greengrass was at least useful for something. 

The woman was a blood traitor, yes, but he couldn’t imagine ever allowing a woman to stand before him and throw herself off of a castle right in front of his face, ending her own life. He would likely even step in to save Granger from such a fate, mudblood or not.

Death and horrible deeds had always existed in his world, and he had always known they occurred, but he only was able to admit to himself how little he could stomach witnessing such things in recent years when he had been involved with the Dark Lord.

Besides his mother, who he had seen be tossed about and poorly treated physically by his father since he was a boy, but he had always tried not to look when his mother was abused. At least his father never hurt his mother for sport, as some men enjoyed, but in his irrational anger and intoxication. At least his father loved his mother, and his mother him. She deserved better, but what she had was better than nothing at all.

Draco’s attention was pulled back to the room when Rhys finally collected himself to stand and follow after his old friend. Draco’s eyes followed his form until it was out of sight and his gaze slid to Daphne, empathy for her falling over him for the girl that was just forced to witness her mother in her worst state, and Draco knew what it was to see a mother so near to the ground. 

He was relieved Astoria wasn’t here to witness it. 

Perhaps it would be better for her brother’s wife to see what happens to her kind when they try to take from the pure-blood world, as apparently it seemed she didn’t quite understand what exactly they were capable of. There was a price to pay for more freedom than they were allowed, there was always a price.

“I never thought she could break like that,” Daphne whispered to the silent men, watching the ground with wide eyes. “I never thought she was so.. Human. She’s always been so stern with how we acted, yet.. There she was.. A blood traitor of all things.” 

Adrian slowly shook his head. “She left him, the muggle. Had Nott said nothing things would have gone much, much differently.” Pucey had his own horrified look on his face, and Draco was sure the scene stung him in more ways than just sympathizing with his wife.

“I think Nott realized that,” Draco pointed out, nodding to the empty spot where Joseph had been. “Either that or he’s just so repulsed by muggles that he’s off vomiting.” 

Draco held the pure-blood beliefs, yes, but he was not nearly as disgusted by the outsiders as some were. Joseph Nott was one of the original Death Eaters, and had always been a much better one than Draco could ever be. 

Daphne shook her head, her face becoming hard as she fought her tears. “He shouldn’t dare disrespect my mother like that. He could have prevented everything, even her finding that.. Muggle in the first place. It was his job to look after her, and he was too busy playing dress up to pay attention to her.” Daphne cut off for a moment to gather her words through her emotions. “I love my mother. I don’t want either of you.. Don’t say anything to insult her. She isn’t a blood traitor anymore. She deserves respect.” 

Draco knew Daphne was speaking more to him than her own husband, as Pucey was not likely to sit there and sneer at her mother’s actions as a teenager, and he adjusted himself in his seat in irritation. There he was feeling bad for the woman and she still was thinking of him in that way, as if he had no conscience or awareness whatsoever.

“Your mother and who she slept with is no concern of mine. As long as my wife is a pure-blood then our children will be. Your mother is your father’s business, not mine.” 

Draco rolled his eyes Pucey’s hard, warning gaze as he responded to his wife’s words, making sure he wouldn’t offend her further. 

“How could she do that..? How could she be so foolish.. A _muggle_ ,” Daphne went on, horror thick in her tone. “Surely my father knows.. And he still kept her? How? And _I’m_ scorned for sleeping with Draco one time.” 

“It seems as though your father cares more about the appearance of upholding our values rather than actually upholding them, dove,” Adrian murmured. 

“And it seems I’ve believed some of those appearances,” Daphne nearly spit. “Obviously he doesn’t follow his own tropes. Torturing my sister.. My mother.. Making her listen to that. Astoria has only ever done exactly what he told her to do, has only ever done what she needed to make him proud. Why wasn’t I tortured?”

“Why wouldn’t he simply force your brother to stay? He was more than capable. Obviously he isn’t above murder,” Draco asked. 

“My father,” Daphne started after chuckling coldly. “Has his own little code of fairness. Always providing people with ‘choices’. You heard what he said to Edric. He told him that he could stay or leave with the girl. Obviously he expected Edric to choose to stay, but he didn’t. My father doesn’t like when he doesn’t have control, and he certainly didn’t expect to lose control. But still. He gave Edric a choice and Edric made one, and he is one to keep his word.”

“Seems more like he has ‘mummy didn’t love me as a child’ syndrome,” Pucey scoffed, stopping to look at the Pensieve. “Lovely. Another one. Hopefully a happy story this time.” 

Draco fully doubted that the memory would be anything close to happy based on the majority of what he had been shown up to that point.

“Why are you incapable of being a decent child?” A woman, Mrs. Greengrass presumably based on the home in the scene, asked the small boy who stood before her. “Your role is _simple_. Can you truly do nothing right?”

“I’m sorry, mother,” the little boy, appearing to be six or seven, told her sadly, his eyes staring up at her tearfully. “I am trying.. It was so loud, and everyone was too close.. Please, mummy..”

The child, Aldrich Greengrass, was a sweet, vulnerable looking boy with handsome features and striking large and icy blue eyes. He looked up at the beautiful, cold woman with frightened but adoring eyes as she scolded him, his small hands twisting together in his stress.

“Loud?” She demanded, grabbing his face with her hand roughly causing his lower lip to wobble with emotion. “You are useless to us when all you do is cringe and flinch about as if you’re retarded! You’re an embarrassment, and we are growing tired of being patient with you. Do you understand?” The woman lowered herself to kneel beside her son while he stared back at her, his light eyes begging for forgiveness. “No one. Likes you. And nobody ever will, not truly.” She jerked his face closer, her eyes searching his with disdain. “But I don’t care about truly. You will make people like you on the surface. You _will_ be a decent heir, or we will make another and be rid of you.” 

“Yes, mother,” he choked, tears streaming down his pitiful face. “I promise I’ll do better. Please forgive me.. I love you.” 

“Oh, yes. You will do better,” she replied without emotion, standing slowly before calling the house-elf. “Bring him to his room,” she commanded. “Show him what loud _really_ means, and don’t let him be free of it. Not until he stops having a fit about it. Do silence his room, however, as I do not want to hear it.”

“Not that,” Aldrich sobbed. “Not that, mummy. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry..” 

“You’re truly an ungrateful thing. _That_ is what will help you behave properly. Do you know what parents normally do when they breed children with such unfortunate.. disabilities?” She asked, eyeing him with disgust. “They rid themselves of them, or at the very least have another to provide a distraction for their failure.” 

Aldrich fell forward to wrap his arms around his mother’s legs, resting his cheek against them mournfully as he clung to her. “I am grateful. Please believe me. Please don’t make me go to my room for that.. Can’t I stay with you? I’ll be good.”

The woman placed two fingers against the boy’s head, pushing him away from her slowly. “Aldrich,” she spoke softly, warningly. 

The child broke into helpless, quiet cries, moving his arms to hug them to himself instead, holding himself as he followed the house-elf out of the room obediently.

 

Astoria sat rigidly on Draco’s bed, twisting her hands in her lap in stress and uncertainty, her brother’s face not leaving her mind. Anger rushed through her once more at the thought of that woman in her home, mocking her with her presence and her plain, lackluster appearance. What did Edric see in her? She wasn’t a powerful witch, that much was obvious as she did nothing to stop Astoria when she had advanced on her, did nothing when she drew her wand. 

Just as he did nothing either.

So the woman he had ruined her family for, abandoned her for, wasn’t even important to him enough to actually step in and defend from his oh so cruel sister. 

Astoria pulled her legs up on the bed, wrapping her arms around them, ignoring the way her dress protested at the position. She didn’t want to think about this, it hurt her to think about it, and she had this terrible anxious feeling pressing at her chest and constricting her breathing. Draco had said it was alright, he had been so kind to her. Why had he been so kind? She wasn’t a good wife, and she had almost gotten herself arrested. She still may be in trouble with the Aurors if that horrific Eld woman decided to report her for attempting to assault her colleague. Still, he had been incredibly sweet to her on a matter that most husbands would not have any patience for. She didn’t know why, she didn’t know what she did to make him treat her in such a way, but she was both grateful and reluctant of his comforting, as even though he was sweet he had still pushed her where she didn’t want to go. He had made her emotionally react, made her accept her feelings when all she ever wanted to do was avoid them, and she _had_ avoided them until she married Draco. She closed her eyes, pushing herself from the thoughts at hand, clearing her mind as best as she could. 

“Astoria.”

Astoria pressed her face into her knees, a lump forming in her throat at his voice. This was why she didn’t allow herself to think of him. He became too real, too haunting to her. He didn’t deserve to be so important to her. He didn’t deserve to exist in her heart anymore.

“Tori.”

That nickname. That nickname her siblings gave her, so irritating and silly. Her mother constantly mocked it, and Astoria never cared for it herself but still internally found it endearing when select individuals used it. 

The air in the room shifted and Astoria froze, listening carefully as she felt someone near her. She didn’t raise her head when a hand rested hesitantly on her arm that was wrapped around her legs, afraid to look. The touch was definitely not Draco’s, and it was far too familiar to be anyone other than the person she was terrified of facing. 

“Please look at me,” his voice begged her softly, a fragility to it that she didn’t remember it ever having. 

Astoria finally raised her head, slowly meeting her brother’s eyes again, trying to form ice in her expression towards him. He needed to know she didn’t need him, she never needed him. She hadn’t even thought of him for all these years. He was nothing, and he deserved to know. How dare he come to her here in her husband’s bedroom to confront her. Her eyes followed him coldly as he lowered himself on the bed to sit beside her. She wanted to move away from him, move to grab her wand, do something to get him out of her sight and space but she couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. 

“Astoria,” he said her name again, sending shards of pain through her chest. This was real. He was real. Why was he doing this to her? Hadn’t he done enough to her? “Are you alright?” 

Are you alright?

She stared at him, shocked he would act such a ridiculous and absurd question. Was she alright? What did that mean?

“Am I alright?” She demanded, her eyes already brimming with tears as she bit out the words to him. She hadn’t planned on saying anything to him, he didn’t deserve her efforts, but the question was too much to ignore, too stupid to ignore. “You’re asking me if I’m alright? After.. after everything. Everything that you left me with. After you left me.” Astoria cut off, wiping her tears furiously as she forced herself to continue. “You left me.. How could you leave me? I thought that family was important to you. I thought.. I thought that you were my best friend. You chose some girl at school over me, over everyone. I begged you to stay.. I-I asked you if you loved me and you said nothing.. You did nothing. Everything.. changed when you left, and then I was alone, and everything was darker.. No, I’m not alright. I’m not. I’m tired, and now you’re here.. As if you have a right. As if you have a right to come back. You have no right to come back, no right to try to come and speak to now. You lost me. No. You didn’t lose me, actually. You gave me away. You abandoned us, and now you’ve come back.” She stopped, bitterness washing over her as she pushed away from him. “Oh wait, you’re not back for us. You came to rescue your mudblood. Silly me. I suppose you’re here to tell me how horrible I am for making her cry then, yes? Don’t worry, my husband saved her because you weren’t man enough to even do that.”

He was silent for a long time, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. She wanted him to leave. Why was he there? So he wouldn’t stay when she wanted him to but now that she wanted him gone he wouldn’t leave? Did he live to torture her?

“I do love you, Astoria,” he told her, his voice thick with emotion and Astoria clenched her teeth together, turning her face farther away from him. “I love you so much more than you think I do. I’m sorry that I left you. I didn’t.. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You don’t,” she whimpered back, not bothering with her tears at that point. “You don’t, Edric. Don’t say that. Not now. Not when you weren’t there.” 

“You’re right. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there when you got your wand, I wasn’t there when you started school, I wasn’t there when you were started performing magic, I wasn’t there when Nott erased your memories and fucked with your heart, I wasn’t there during the war to make sure you were safe, I wasn’t there when you were married off.. I wasn’t there when you needed me, and it kills me to know that. It has killed me every day since I left, Astoria. I swear there wasn’t a day where I didn’t think of all of you, I swear there wasn’t a day I didn’t hate myself for the mess I made. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You have to know that, and you have to know how much I love you.” Edric was crying himself now, and his voice broke horribly through his words. 

She hated him. Truly hated him.

Astoria was left to break down once again, and the same panicked feeling overwhelmed her as she did. She didn’t want to cry over him again, shouldn’t cry over him again. Why was she crying _again_?

“You’re shaking,” he said despairingly, and she cried out in protest when she was drawn into his arms, attempting to wriggle free. 

_Absolutely not._

He ignored her attempts to escape his grasp, tucking her under his chin. 

“Let me go! This isn’t right! If father knew..” 

Edric stiffened at her words, only holding her tighter instead of releasing her as she had so desperately hoped. “Father isn’t here, and none of this is right, Tori. None of it.”

Astoria went limp in his arms, glaring fiercely through her tears. “You can’t just come into my own home and manhandle me,” she bit out, giving up on fighting him. “You have no right.”

He laughed sadly and she looked up at him incredulously at the sound. “There is nothing funny about this. Nothing at all. You’re a blood traitor, and you’re not my bro-” 

“I just missed you.”

She bit into the inside of her cheek hard, her glare pulling into sadness in her emotion at his words. “I didn’t miss you,” she whispered, hating him more for feeling so familiar and good after all of these years, after what he did to her. 

He still felt like home. 

“Yes you did,” he told her firmly, squeezing her tighter. 

Astoria began to weep in his arms, wrapping her arms around him miserably. She would be in so much trouble for this.. Why wasn’t Draco putting a stop to this? Where was he? If the community knew, if her father knew..

But she didn’t want to let him go. He was still her brother no matter how much she tried to erase him. Everything about him was nearly the same as she remembered. His voice was a bit matured, but his scent, the type of clothing, the way he felt as he held her. Nothing had changed, while at the same time everything had changed. She felt like a child again, holding onto him this way, and even more so as she wet his clothes with her tears and sniffling. It was the most pitiful sight, she was sure, and she could practically hear her mother’s mocking in her head. She should be showing him the woman she had become all without his help, but instead she was showing him the child she had remained ever since he had left, almost halted in time at his start of absence. 

“This doesn’t change things,” she murmured into his chest after a length of quiet, the sounds of his breathing giving her something to focus on. “You still aren’t my brother.” 

“I’ll always be your brother, but accept me as your brother again just for the moment. I’m the boss, if you remember.”

“I’m seventeen. I don’t think it’s a matter of who is the ‘boss’ anymore.” 

“Seventeen? Is that supposed to convince me of your mature age? You’re still a child, Tori. You still look like-“ 

“I’m old enough to be someone’s wife, as well as old enough to participate in what marriage entails,” she cut him off shortly. “Everyone is constantly treating me as if I’m a child, and-“ 

“Please. Never imply sex with Malfoy again,” he replied, disgust heavy in his tone. “You’re a baby, and he’s worthless.” 

“I’m not a baby,” she argued quietly. “I’ve done more things than you know.” 

“Yes,” he agreed gravely. “And I don’t think I want to know. I believe I know more than I can handle as it is.” 

Astoria stopped, worry trickling through her as she remembered his words. “How did you know about Theodore..? Has it gotten out? Who told you? I only kissed him, I didn’t do anything further. I didn’t mean-“ 

“It hasn’t gotten out,” he interrupted her darkly. “And if it had it would be unlikely for me to know before others anyway. Things are not as they used to be.”

“Who?”

“How could you go to him, Astoria? How foolish can you be? You know how men handle these matters, how any man would handle something like that. You cheated on your husband, prick or not, you did, and I cannot believe Malfoy acts as if he’s somewhat fond of you after that. Well, actually I can I suppose.” 

“He is fond of me,” she insisted bitterly. “He isn’t so terrible.”

“Isn’t so terrible?” He demanded. “He branded you with dark magic, Astoria. Couldn’t you have been the one to end up with Pucey? Daphne is much better at-“ 

“Don’t insult me with.. Adrian. Is that who has been telling you these things? I can’t.. How dare he,” she demanded, pulling back as she shook her head in disbelief. “Does Daphne know about this?”

“I never said it was Pucey.” 

“You’re not denying it either,” she snapped. “I can’t believe he would do this. Does he not realize the repercussions? My sister is married to a blood traitor. Can this family fall under any more shame?” 

Edric said nothing and Astoria pulled back more, wiping her eyes. “I can’t believe you were spying on me through my own brother-in-law. As if I’m any of your business.” 

“You are my business. I practically raised you for fu-“ 

“Yes! You raised me and then you left!” She cried. “You left so now I’m not your business anymore.” 

“Stop being difficult. I’m here. You let me touch you already. You might as well stop being a brat and let us get on with it.” 

“A brat,” she repeated. “I’m not being a brat. I’m being realistic, and I’m thinking ahead. Something you never learned how to do when you decided to start sneaking around with a mudblood.” 

“Astoria,” he told her, his voice level. “I know you are talented with your sharp tongue, but please filter yourself for the time being.” 

“And why should I? What did you do to deserve that from me?” 

“Nothing, but when do you imagine will be the next time we get a chance to be alone to speak together? The next time you will be enough of a mess to allow me near you? I want the proper goodbye that I never gave you.” 


	56. Chapter 56

 

Edric closed his eyes at his own words, loathing the idea of saying goodbye to his own sister. They had not spoken or seen each other in years, but the thought of actually saying _goodbye_ slaughtered his heart. There didn’t seem to be another option, as he doubted she would even be willing to speak to him outside of this one instance, which even now she was not exactly willing. He had forced her. Which, he had not _meant_ to be so forward initially. He had no right to be touching her, pushing himself into her space and speaking to her as if nothing had changed. He hadn’t meant to overwhelm her, though he knew just existing in front of her eyes had overwhelmed her, but he had still meant to approach her with care.

But it was so difficult to hold himself back. 

He shouldn’t have found his way here in the first place, as it was completely unfair to Astoria and her boundaries, not to mention the fact of how forbidden it was for her to be communicating with him, acknowledging him period. He had to see her, had to at least attempt to get through to her that he did in fact love her after being unable to answer her cries that evening, that evening that would assault his head space for the remainder of his life. How could he stand to know that she never heard him tell her that he loved her after he, in her eyes, abandoned her? He doubted his words would ring true to her, as the culture of their society was imbedded into her as well as him, but he had to try. It was good Daphne had not been alone, as he was sure he would be likely to overstep with her as well, but he did not have the strength to not go to his baby sister, not after witnessing their own father torturing her for Edric’s own doing. 

His mind was still reeling from the viciousness of the truth and the ability it had to rip his soul to bits. 

He had thought he knew what it was to hurt and to feel torn in half, but to witness his sweet Astoria struggling to control her emotions after he had broken her heart before being mercilessly tortured until she couldn’t even find the air to scream, until she lost consciousness. 

His breath was taken away once more at the images of the scene replaying in his mind, tightening his arms around his sister who was still so small despite her aging significantly since the last time he had held her. He wished he could now comply to her pleas to take her with him. She deserved to be away from this place, away from their father and new husband. She deserved so much more. This wasn’t the place for her. 

No, this was the place for her now. 

She wasn’t as she was when she had begged him to take her away, when she had been so lively and incapable of behaving just right. When she ripped her hair down from its bows and kicked the shoes off of her feet to run around in the grass. She was not that girl anymore, and that was because of him. Because he chose to involve himself with his wife, his wife who didn’t deserve to be married to a man stuck on his past and who didn’t deserve to be degraded to tears by his sister for his own actions. What Astoria had said to Ophelia only proved how she truly belonged in her world, and there was no turning back time to who she once was. Not that he could ever take her away, there was no chance his father would allow another child to walk away freely again. No, just as he couldn’t hope for a chance at a relationship with her. Aside from the fact he doubted Astoria or her husband would allow it, it was dangerous for both women involved. His wife was already in danger enough, showing up at the Manor with many witnesses. His father could so easily find out, and judging by both sisters reactions to him and his wife he wouldn’t be shocked if they went to tell him of what had happened themselves.

Yet he was there, opening old wounds. Well, he supposed the wounds had resurfaced the moment their eyes met there as she turned away from his wife, but he still should be giving her her space as both her husband and that other woman had said. 

It was selfish of him, and perhaps him trying to clear her doubts of his feelings towards her was only making things so much worse than they already were, but he had always been selfish, hadn’t he? Their world didn’t breed quality men as they so claimed, not the quality men that the women in it deserved, as their women and their flaws were a direct result of how the men in their lives treated them. 

Ah, he could practically hear such a claim on his mother’s lips. 

“If I say goodbye will you leave right now?” She asked him, her voice cold and stiff, masking the vulnerability underneath it. 

Edric sighed, savoring the feeling of her in his arms while he was still able. “Of course. If that is what you want.” 

He held himself back from saying more, as he wanted to say more to convince her to let him speak with her longer, let them make the most of this time while they had it. He did not want to pressure her more into a situation causing her such distress, he had already pushed her limits. Ophelia had pushed her limits, and he had not been the least bit surprised at the words she had used towards his wife. She had a mean streak, he had known that since she had just started speaking as a child, and she had a burning temper that blinded her. She may be poised and done up now as a young woman, but with age that temper had only been polished and refined into something cold and harsh. She had been raised in an environment that was cold and harsh, and a product of that environment she was. He _was_ stunned, however, when she had mimicked their own father’s stunts against his wife, forcing her to her knees in front of her the way she had. It had nauseated him and created a strong moment of resentment for his little sister that had quickly faded into pity and guilt that her unhealthy animosity towards Ophelia was because of him. 

She had spoken of their dead children. 

The possibility of a curse being placed on Ophelia in order to prevent her from birthing him children had graced his mind, but he hadn’t allowed himself to truly consider it seeing as it would crush both of them if it were true, and would only further prove how horrible he was for his wife and the misfortunes he had caused everyone he loved. Every single one. It wasn’t fair for him to avoid his suspicions and carry on with her as normal, allowing Ophelia to believe their children had been lost naturally, he knew that. 

“I don’t.. I don’t know,” Astoria murmured after being silent for a length of time. “Where is Draco?” 

“Hopefully suffering at the hands of Pucey seeing as he is incapable of being decent towards our sister.” 

“They’re fighting?” Astoria asked, concern in her voice.   
“No, but they should be. Malfoy blatantly and openly insulted her. I would kill anyone who-“ He cut off, realizing how false his statement would be given the recent events. “He’s a classless prick.” 

“He isn’t as horrible as he seems,” she said quietly. “He has been very patient with me.. He doesn’t know you’re in here?” 

“No. Seeing as he wouldn’t let Daphne come to see you, I doubt he would allow myself.” 

“Where is _she_?” She asked, her tone falling into something dark. 

“Waiting for me,” he answered levelly. “She is unhappy with me at the moment, but she is being very reasonable towards you given how you’ve treated her.” 

“Don’t you dare attempt to scold me for putting that worthless mud-“

“Astoria,” he interrupted her. “Please. Insult me if you must, but please let her be. She has never had malicious intent towards our family. You made your thoughts on her very clear, now please be done with it.” 

“You love her,” she nearly whispered. “More than you love me. Or Daphne.” 

“No. Absolutely not do I love her more than either of you. I couldn’t.. Was I meant to allow her to die?”

“You allowed me to die.”

He could have melted into the floorboards as she made him feel so much lower than them when her words struck him. He tried to swallow the familiar lump of shame clawing at his throat but his mouth was too dry. He didn’t know what to say, he had already apologized, and at the end of at all apologies helped absolutely nothing. 

“Would you have stayed with her had father not found out?” She asked when he didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Her words hadn’t called for a response, they had only been meant to be a blow to his heart, and they had succeeded. 

“No,” he said firmly, feeling her tense in his arms. 

“Are you lying?” 

“No,” he repeated. “I never wanted to leave any of you or my responsibilities. I wouldn’t have left only for pleasure.” 

“So it was my fault,” she said softly, deflating against him. 

“What?” He asked, bewildered at her change of mood. “Astoria, how could it possibly be your fault?” 

“I’m the reason father knew. If I hadn’t seen it, you would still be mine.” 

“I am still yours,” he told her, moving his hand to run it over her head. 

“No. You know you’re not.” Her tone was short, but she didn’t attempt to move away from his hand.

“I,” he started before sighing, considering his words. “You wouldn’t have me if I tried to give myself back to you.” 

“It’s not possible,” Astoria said coolly. “Draco has already been more than fair with-“ 

“Stop describing him as a decent husband,” he interrupted her. “He _marked_ you with dark magic.” 

“Not an uncommon occurrence in our world as you should know, or have you grown so soft from being in your _wife’s_ that you’ve forgotten?” She asked, her tone irritatingly defensive of Malfoy. 

“Show them to me,” he commanded, ignoring her question and pulling back to examine her. 

“They aren’t covered with a charm, Edric,” she mumbled, looking down at her rumpled dress before tugging at the hem, attempting to fix her appearance somewhat. “He controls them, or if another man touches me who.. Wants me. I suppose. I’m not entirely sure how they work.”  
“And they hurt you?” He demanded, eyeing her skin suspiciously, finding it only clear and unflawed as he attempted to search his memory for an enchantment that would match such a description. 

She hummed in agreement, her gaze still on her dress. “Yes.. But then they.. Don’t hurt me,” she continued to mumble, her face slightly coloring and she ducked her head more before inhaling sharply. 

“Stop,” he said, his face moving into a grimace as disgust rolled through him as he made sense of her words and odd behavior. “No more.” 

“You are the one prying,” she snapped, looking away from him in embarrassment. “I.. Was trying to say how we couldn’t..” Her face fell slightly as she looked forward with a sudden thought. “ _Father_ will see this, see us.. He’ll see _me_ speaking to you,” she said, her voice filling with panic as she scrambled back from him. “Letting you _touch_ me.. A blood traitor.” She looked as if she was attempting to remind herself again that she should be revolted with the thought of touching a blood traitor. “He will kill you when he finds out.” 

Though from what Pucey had shown him, a blood traitor had given birth to both of them. 

“Have you seen father as of late?” He asked calmly, attempting not to panic along with her as she reminded him of his worries.

She shook her head slowly. “No.. I’ve only seen mother a few times. They are in hiding, but you know how mother is.” 

“I do know how mother is,” he confirmed gravely, a small, sad smile lifting his lips. “And you don’t know how to hide anything from him?” 

“Why should I?” Astoria demanded, meeting his eyes with her distressed ones. “Why should I not tell him of your return? That you and your mudblood dared to come back here when you _know_ the rules of these things. You know father.”

“I don’t know why you shouldn’t,” he sighed. “I don’t know, Astoria.”

She looked away, staring at the wall opposite from him. They sat in silence for a long time once more, and Edric didn’t attempt to move towards her again. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice small and sweet this time, a tone of mourning in her words.

“Why are you sorry?” He asked, frowning at the back of her disheveled hair. 

“About your children. I’m sorry you lost them.” She turned her head towards him, but her eyes were trained on the bed as she ran her index finger along the bedding in a pattern. “You would be a good father. I shouldn’t.. I shouldn’t have said those things about them. No woman deserves that.” 

He opened his mouth, stopping for a moment before letting out his breath, nodding slowly. “Thank you,” he said quietly, surprised and appreciative at her words. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she continued, her voice sounding even closer to her voice as a child. “Perhaps a little.. But I don’t want father to find out. I’m not sure if I can help that though..” 

“Ah, my own sister doesn’t want me murdered. The highest praise I’ve ever received. I’m touched, Tori.” It was an inappropriate time for humor, but the angst that hung in the air was beginning to suffocate him. 

Edric froze at the approaching sound, glancing at Astoria reluctantly before apparating from the room and to his wife awaiting him in a distant section of the home. 

Astoria turned to look at her husband as he entered the room, attempting to not appear wide-eyed and nervous at his entrance as her heart fell back to a relaxed pace from the small surge of panic at the sound of his approach, nearly catching her brother in his room with her. 

“You should get some sleep,” he told her, eyeing her face, his face nearly unreadable aside from a ghost of concern. 

“What’s going on?” She asked, frowning at the fact he was not already updating her on everything. 

“An Anti-Disapparation Jinx has been placed around the property,” he told her dismissively. “It seems the Aurors have concluded that it was either a scare tactic, or something to bait them with. The wards on the Manor have not been touched otherwise. Granger says they will be working on removing them, insisting I extend my hospitality to her for the night.” 

“Aren’t you worried?” Astoria asked, standing to go to him, concern filling her. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “Slightly, but for now there is nothing to be done, and I would like to keep my mind off of my worries as well as my disgust that I am currently allowing such people to _sleep_ in my home.” 

She noticed how he wasn’t mentioning the fact that Edric and his wife were stuck in the Manor as well, and she assumed he was hoping she wouldn’t come to that conclusion. 

“You’ll rest with me?” She asked, shoving the thoughts of her brother aside. She needed peace from her mind, even if it was just until morning.

“Where else would I rest? The floor? This is my bedroom.”

“I was only making sure.” 

“We sleep together every night, Astoria,” he told her dully. “I do wish to shower before bed, however. 

“Well I wanted a bath..” She sighed. She desperately needed one actually. Showers never had quite the same effect. 

“Are you demanding that I should allow you in the bathroom first?” He drawled, unbuttoning his shirt. 

“No. You could have a bath with me,” she suggested, blinking at herself in embarrassment after she thought over her words.

Draco snorted, giving her a look. “A bath? Honestly? Do I look like the type to take baths?” 

“Yes,” she replied innocently, pulling the corners of her lips down in attempt to hide her smile. “A bit.” 

“A bit,” he repeated. 

“Yes, you’re quite pretty, you know,” she told him, nodding. 

He snorted again, and Astoria stood to go to him, wiping the remainder of tears that hadn’t quite dried into the stickiness of the rest of them that clung to her face. She moved his hands, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt herself. 

“Won’t you take one with me?” She asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes to meet his silvery eyes, surprised satisfaction falling over her when she watched them falter. 

He searched her eyes for a moment before nodding his head his slightly once. She smiled, pushing his shirt off of his shoulders as her eyes fell back to his body. 

Yes, he was quite a good distraction. 

“Are you trying to seduce me when there is still snot all over your face?” 

Astoria glared at his chest and pulled away. “I do not have snot all over my face, Draco,” she grumbled, running her fingers through her tangled hair before turning towards the bathroom. “I wasn’t trying to seduce you either,” she continued, sniffing. “You would know if I was, and I wouldn’t have to _try._ ”

Astoria narrowed her eyes when she heard his snicker at her statement, pressing her lips together. 

“You’re cute, love.” 

Astoria ignored him, running the bath before stripping out of her dress, turning to the mirror before her eyes widened slightly in horror at the state of her face, touching her puffy eyes gingerly. “I look hideous,” she groaned to herself, wiping at the ruined mascara with little luck at improving her appearance. 

“My wife could never look hideous. Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco told her, slinking up behind her to slide his hands up her arms before kissing her shoulder, his lips lingering on her skin as his eyes flicked up to meet hers in the mirror. 

She hummed, breaking her gaze from his quickly to hide her shyness, pulling away from him and the mirror as she reached behind her to undo her bra. 

“You asked me to join you,” he pointed out. “Yet you don’t seem too thrilled at my presence.”

“You were rude,” she huffed, climbing into the scalding water once she was completely nude, wincing at the temperature. 

“I believe I gave you a compliment, actually. I don’t remember ‘cute’ being rude,” he answered, stepping out of the rest of his own clothing. 

“You were making fun of me. You see me as a child, just as others do.” 

“I should hope to Merlin I see you as more than a child,” he scoffed, stepping into the water with her. “Or else I’d have to worry about my mental health in result of desiring to fuck a woman I consider a child. That would be quite disturbing.” 

“It’s too hot,” she complained, shifting uncomfortably as she ignored his response. 

“It’s nice,” he said firmly, snatching her wand from her as she attempted to cool the water down, tossing it across the room.   
“Draco,” she protested, frowning at her wand that was rolling away. “I feel nervous with my wand so far from my reach.” 

“You may use mine if an emergency arrises,” he replied, rolling his eyes. 

Astoria felt a thrill run through her and she tried to hide how he flattered her, as a wizard sharing his wand was quite an intimate gesture. 

“I’m boiling,” she went on complaining, shifting in the water to move towards him, taking in the view of his body finally as she did before turning herself to sit between his legs, her back facing his. 

“You’re complaining an awful lot for someone I’m doing a favor for,” he mused, gathering her closer to him until her the back of her was firmly pressed against as much of his skin as possible. 

“A favor?” She asked, scowling as she settled back to rest against him, her body growing used to the burning water. “How is being naked with your wife a favor?” 

“I could have you anywhere I please, with or without the bathtub.” 

“You could, but you don’t.”

She regretted her words when she could practically _feel_ him smirking behind her. 

“Oh? You sound disappointed,” he said, his tone coated in amusement as he ran his hands down the front of her body, caressing her under the water. 

“I don’t sound disappointed. You’re just taking my statement as you want it to be,” she said firmly, trying not to respond too strongly to his touches. “I do wish to become _clean_ in result of this bath..” She watched his hands roam her skin under the clear water, feeling her body press up against his touch instinctively. 

“As do I, seeing as you’ve taken my shower from me,” he told her, moving her away from him as he plucked up her bath products, eyeing them. 

She turned to face him, taking them from him and spilling several of her bathing potions into the bath, inhaling contently. She grabbed a washcloth after clearing her face of its mess, pouring her soaps over it to begin cleaning herself. 

“This is the cliché part where you wash me,” he said dully, settling back to lean against the tub lazily. 

“In a moment,” she told him, glancing at the water rolling down his pale chest, allowing her gaze to linger when she noticed his eyes close. “I will finish myself first.” 

“Mmm.” 

“You could be the romantic one and wash me instead,” she told him, smiling at him when he opened one eye to give her a look. 

“I don’t have the energy,” he said, his tone slightly played up as he closed the eye again. “I’m _exhausted_. I’ve been through more than enough nonsense today.” 

Oh, if they were to compare. 

“You wouldn’t do it right anyway.” He hummed again at her words, and didn’t move from his position for the rest of her washing, giving her plenty of time to look at him without him watching her.

“Surely you would be finished quicker if you weren’t gawking.” 

She felt her face heat up and she glowered down at the water, dipping down to rinse the conditioner out of her hair. “I’m nearly finished.” 

“Mhm.”

Boldly, she shifted to settle directly in his lap, her legs on either side of his waist as she straddled him in the water, washing his chest with her washcloth. 

He lifted his head to look at her face, and she could faintly see his eyes traveling down from her face and over her chest then back to her face.

“Do you see what I mean, love? Cute.” 

She stopped, frowning at him in offense. “You’re just trying to get a rise out of me, Draco.” 

“No, it’s you who is clearly trying to get a _rise_ out of me.” 

“That was a poor attempt at humor,” she mumbled, lifting her chin slightly as she continued her scrubbing. 

“Don’t pout simply because you’re unsuccessful.”

She blinked, tilting her head as she shifted in his lap, brushing herself against the target of their implications.   
“No I’m not,” she told him curiously. 

His face remained neutral, but she heard his sharp intake of breath and smirked triumphantly, moving the washcloth over his shoulders and neck smugly. 

“Don’t look too pleased with yourself. I would hate for your head to grow too large.” 

“I agree, I don’t think that if we _both_ had engorged egos that they would be able to fit in this home together.” 

“You only grow more confident in your wit with me over time it seems.” 

“You’re allowing it,” she murmured, catching his eye as she watched him questioningly. “Aren’t you?” 

“So it seems,” he confirmed, his eyes softening as he spoke. 

She closed the small distance between their faces and kissed him, listening to the water slosh lightly as she moved to press herself closer to him, tasting his mouth and enjoying the way their bodies glided against each other under the water. Like in his office, he didn’t attempt to do any more aside from respond to her lips with his own gently, allowing her her freedom which she hadn’t experienced much of in her life. She grabbed his face in her hands to angle him properly, climbing higher around his waist as she kissed him just as bruisingly as the first time he had kissed her. She rocked herself forward to rub her hips against his waist, nearly laughing in amusement at the even louder sloshing of the bath water. Just as he moved his hands and lost his composure into this kiss she broke it, just as he had broken so many of his kisses to her before just when she had began to enjoy them. She smiled at him when he looked at her with dull eyes and leaned forward to kiss the lids of them before kissing his nose and then his forehead before pushing down on his shoulders. 

“Attempting to drown me, are you?” He asked, eyeing the water as she forced him down. 

“Yes,” she said, her tone serious as she made him wet his hair before massaging her own shampoo into it, rubbing her fingers carefully into his scalp. 

He sighed at her hands and she watched in satisfaction when his eyes closed once more in pleasure. Perhaps she wasn’t the _most_ horrible wife. 

They were quiet for the rest of the bath until he stood, scooping her up, dripping wet before stepping out with her, grabbing a towel to wrap around her as she held back a shriek at his abrupt movement and clawed at his neck to get a good grip. 

“Bath time is over,” he told her firmly. “I’m going wrinkly.” 

Astoria nearly choked on the giggles that spilled past her lips, pressing her face into his slick shoulder to stifle them as he dried her, dropping her on the bed before drying himself with the same towel, smirking at the way her bits moved with how he had let her fall onto the bedding and she quickly covered her breasts, crawling up to her side of the bed near her pillow before dragging her fingers through her wet hair that was already tangling. She stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to catch on before he raised an eyebrow at her slowly. 

“You expect me to go and fetch it for you?” 

She let her face fall before shaking her head, moving to get up from the bed before he stopped her. 

“Don’t,” he told her flatly, turning to go back to the bathroom before emerging with her hairbrush. 

She beamed, taking the brush from him to untangle her hair, climbing under the blankets when she was finished and wriggling against the sheets at the feeling of them on her naked skin. She waited for him to join her in his bed before crawling over him, resting her whole body against the length of his, kissing his throat as she savored the feel. She trailed her fingers lightly up the sides of him, his skin still hot from the bath water as she nibbled his neck curiously, pleased he was silent and compliant as she touched him. She took her time exploring him, focusing all of her attention and energy on him and him alone, only studying him as her mind felt at complete ease while her body craved for more, directing her to take more. She wondered how he felt being on the receiving end of such attentions, wondering if he found comfort in it as she did. 

She wasn’t fully aware she had connected them sexually until she heard her own soft moan, immediately blushing at her own initiation. She hadn’t predicted taking it that far all on her own with no direction from Draco. She braced her hands on his chest, pushing herself up more properly as she moved her hips slowly against his above him, closing her eyes as her fingers curled slightly into his flesh. His hands caressed her thighs and she sighed in appreciation, resting her hands over his as she balanced herself, moving her hips back and forth in her painfully slow, deliberate motions. She heard him growl when she didn’t attempt to quicken her pace nearly as soon as he apparently wanted, but he still didn’t force her to go faster, only meeting her with his own eager movements until she intertwined her fingers with his, pushing his arms up and against the bed as she lowered herself with them. Her back arched over his body as she finally sped up, whimpering at her position change before opening her eyes to meet his, forcing herself to look at him instead of shying away as she wanted to, finding his expression tender with its lust for her. She gasped as her pleasure built, hanging her head to brush under his chin until she was crying out and shuddering, and only then when she was unable to control a proper rhythm on her own did he urge her to give him more and move his hips up to collide with hers in a much more aggressive manner to reach his own climax, holding her there until they were both satisfied.

She dropped herself down on his chest, sliding down one side of it slightly as she nuzzled her nose against the closest skin she could reach in her exhaustion, her body humming, sweet and content. The waves of the effects after the fact did not compare very well to those when Draco has his way, but she still felt more than wonderful and at peace with her thoughts. 

At least until the morning when surely she would have to face again what she had run from.


	57. Chapter 57

 

Aldrich held his two year old daughter carefully, noting how well behaved she was for such a young thing as he approached his worn wife who was so beautiful still after just giving birth to their third child. Daphne squirmed in his arms as he got closer to Freya, and he glanced down at his toddler, his firm gaze relaxing slightly in his affection as she reached for her mother so eagerly. His wife was a better mother than she gave herself credit for, better than a lot of the women in their community. She was not the most affectionate and warm woman, but she was a mother who genuinely loved her children, and for that they were lucky.

He was lucky. 

Aldrich was not above admitting to himself that he had a quality woman, damaged or not, she was someone he could respect, and she looked lovely by his side. She was no where near a doting, loving wife, never would be. He didn’t need her to be. If that had been what he had wanted then he would have allowed his parents to pair him with a much more basic woman, a naturally pliant woman. Admittedly, he had not expected to grow an attachment to his wife, but he supposed it was only natural given the fact he had bonded them so tightly together and infiltrated her mind so heavily, felt every burning emotion inside of her. She was truly his witch, no matter if she desired to be or not, and no one would know her as he did. Not her childhood friend, not her pathetic little muggle fling that he had kindly overlooked. No, he knew her inside and out, even better than herself. 

“In a moment, Daphne. Her arms are full,” he told his small toddler and she looked up at him with her expressive green eyes before he handed her to his son who was following closely beside him, waiting obediently for direction.

Edric took his sister easily, hitching her higher into his arms when she wrapped her legs around his hip as he peered over his mother to see the small bundle in her arms with interest. He looked up to see his mother’s exhausted face before he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, smiling at her respectfully. Aldrich watched the two of them for a moment before walking closer to Freya’s side, meeting her eyes with his.

“Thank you,” he told her, the same words he had spoken for the two previous children, the most sincere of words he could think to offer her in such a time.

She nodded, not offering him any words in return as she lifted his new daughter towards him. Though she said nothing he could feel the emotion radiating off of her, the emotion he lived for and thrived off of. He took the infant cautiously, always a bit out of his element with such things. He looked down at his new child, so fragile and small. A gorgeous little thing, flawless and unaware of the world around her, the same world that would crush her as it crushed all of them, no matter how they tried. Her mother could attest to that. He would attempt, however, to allow her her sweet innocence for as long as he could manage. 

He savored the small moments such as these with his family, as they were far and few in between. He especially savored the air between him and his wife, as even in their somewhat content moments she held the most bitter loathing for her life, their life. He enjoyed it, it was real, and it went well with his own resentment. But in these moments she was at ease, and she was just so breathtaking in these truly rare minutes when she allowed herself to be okay with him, with herself. It nearly made him want to try and do more for her, try and fix the tenseness that was their relationship, give her something more tender in personal. Tender and personal was not something he knew how to do, not truly. He was sure he could fabricate it, but the reason he was so content with his marriage was because he didn’t have to fabricate so much with her, not to mention that he did tell her he would show her mercy by not bringing her to love him, though he knew a piece of her was rather attached to him at least. Knowing her as well as he did he guessed he could easily gain her love, and that would truly break her, as her stubbornness in hating him was the only thing she felt she had control of anymore. 

She was squirming, Astoria, and squirming quite a bit. A contrast to the previous two children at birth, who were both very still and quiet, surprisingly so. It was almost as if they sensed his desire for their silence. Astoria’s face screwed up below him, reddening as she began to cry. Freya immediately held her hands out, concern coloring her face, concern that he would be too agitated with the sounds coming from the infant. Aldrich ignored her efforts, adjusting the baby gently in his arms, inwardly cringing at the nearly unbearable fussing sounds. He could control himself, this was his newborn after all. He sat on the edge of the bed next to Freya, watching the child quietly as he pulled at the blankets that were wrapped snuggly around her, freeing her squirming arms. Her hands reached into the air, and he offered her his own hand for her to grasp onto it, her red face fading to pink as she gradually calmed when her impossibly small fingers curled around his. 

“She is smaller than Daphne was,” his son said, handing Daphne to her mother. “Isn’t she, mother?”

“Yes, she is a bit. Screamed a lot more as well. She makes up for her size in sound,” Freya replied, a light tone of pride in her voice as she spoke. 

“Baby?” Daphne asked in her childish voice, leaning forward in Freya’s arms as she tried to get a proper look at her newborn sister. 

“Yes, a baby,” Freya confirmed, taking down her daughter’s fine blonde hair to redo it, fixing it. 

“Mine,” Daphne replied firmly, nodding and reaching her chubby arms out to the wiggling child Aldrich was holding expectantly.

Aldrich glanced down at Daphne with amusement before nodding Edric over who was attempting to appear patient, but Aldrich knew his son was itching to see his sister. 

“Sit,” he ordered him, waiting for him to comply and hold his arms out for her as he slowly lowered Astoria into his waiting arms. Daphne stared, her face appearing to be fully offended as her brother was given the bundle instead of her.

“Iss mine,” she protested, reaching further before looking up at her mother in frustration.

“I will have to help you, love. She’s not one of your dolls,” Freya told her, fixing the collar of Daphne’s dress. 

“Ugwier,” Daphne agreed, nodding seriously.  
“You only think she is uglier because she’s real, Daphne. Your dolls are fake,” Edric told her, looking up at her with a stern expression. 

“No,” the toddler argued with him, scowling. “Not fake.”

Aldrich was only half listening to the exchange his family was having as he watched his young but mature son hold the child with confidence as he looked down at his sibling with interest and care, touching her hands with his own as he eyed the tiny hands with fascination before turning to his mother and sister to help Daphne get a proper look.

Yes, she was very real indeed. 

 

_The kid looks like a cruciatus victim._

Theodore paced around the room he had been sleeping in at the Manor, attempting to calm his range of emotions as his stomach twisted inside of him, threatening to make him truly ill all over the floors.

_We don’t torture children._

She had been sent out so soon after being tortured by her own father, expected to present herself as a proper little show piece as if nothing was wrong, as if their family was still perfect and unaffected by the sudden loss of one of its members. She hadn’t hid it enough, and he had seen the aftermath. He had known something was off, and it had been more than just losing her brother, he had always known that.

The man had ripped the spirit out of his Astoria. 

He couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t imagine a parent being so cruel. He had known of parents hurting their children, and he had seen a few of the children he grew up with get smacked around occasionally, Astoria and Daphne included when it came to their mother, but not to that extent. Not in their circle. Their circle was civilized. His own father would never think to harm a child, even now after his father had grown more hollow after his time in Azkaban. His father would never hurt him like that no matter what he did.

_I made her see him, you know. Her brother with that mudblood girl._

Fury for his mother spread through him as he recalled her words and he narrowed his eyes that were glazed over as he was deep in thought. His mother truly made it difficult to forgive her at times, so bitter and stuck in the past. He had played along for far too long even as he loathed hearing her wish such ill will on the girl he loved, played along for her sake seeing as his father had always been so cold with her. He would always excuse her behavior because she was a drunk and she wasn’t in the right state of mind most of the time, but this.. This was hard for him to accept from his mother. There was a reason his father had such a hard time with her. Her and that woman, whatever was between them, was not worth this, and she did not warrant such a revenge.

He yanked the door open when he heard the knock, a sneer covering his face when he saw Novalie there, standing so expectantly and unaffected. He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the room easily, her frame light and cooperative in his efforts, causing her to stumble forward a few steps as she was thrown into the middle before he slammed the door shut, turning to look at her accusingly. 

“What possessed you?” He demanded, infuriated by the way she collected herself and smoothed her hair down, seeming completely unfazed by his anger. 

“I had no idea of the repercussions, Theo,” she told him, watching him carefully. “I couldn’t possibly imagine such an outcome.”

“Don’t call me that,” he said shortly. “We aren’t friends. You couldn’t possibly imagine such an outcome? Are you attempting to sell me that you, as a pure-blood woman, don’t understand what it is to be disowned? Don’t understand what someone who is disowned becomes to their family members?”

“Theodore,” she corrected herself for him, nodding. “If that’s what you would prefer me to call you.”

“Well? Are you planning on offering an explanation?” He asked flatly, searching her sea green eyes with growing anger at how she always kept that even expression, as if she possessed no authentic emotion. 

He had foolishly grown to trust the girl and even held a strange fondness for her presence, but her personality quite easily irritated him if he was in the wrong mood for it. She intrigued him in the fact she seemed so poised and unaffected by everything, but she also infuriated him for the same reasons.

She was full of shit. He knew she was fucked in some way or another, just as they all were.

“They asked me to convince her to aid the Aurors, and so I did,” she told him simply. “I didn’t intend on bringing her here.” 

“It didn’t seem to me like you made an effort to put a stop to it either.”

No, of course not. She sat and observed in silence, not offering help or offering herself as a wedge between Astoria and the mudblood when Astoria was losing her mind on the shaking, pathetic girl. She had put the mudblood in her place, but she had been prepared to go too far, and Theodore knew she wouldn’t be pleased with herself once she was clear headed. Just as she wasn’t pleased with herself after she had gone to him as a married woman, requesting his affections when she shamed her husband by touching another man. 

Novalie cocked her head to one side, watching him still. “I didn’t realize that you felt so strongly for Astoria.” 

“Did you not see what I saw? Anyone would react strongly to that!” He spat, turning away from her, losing patience for the sight of her pretty face and the irritating expressions she wore upon it, ruining its beauty. “Except for you of course. A child being harmed to that extent by her parent is probably some sort of sick treat for you, as you love to observe miserable people.”

“Are you in love with her?” She asked him thoughtfully. He could hear her light steps as she approached a bit closer to him, and he could feel her eyes burning into his back. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Eld. Shut up, and stop interrogating me. Act like a normal person for once before you get yourself hurt,” he snapped, turning to look at her once more to make sure she didn’t get too close to him.

“I’m sorry, Theodore,” she said, her face faltering when his angry eyes met hers again. “I don’t mean to come off as insensitive.” 

He shook his head, sitting on the bed before rubbing a hand over his face. “You can leave. I don’t want to _talk_ about it, and I don’t want to hear your professional opinion of it or her either, nor do I wish to hear your professional opinion on my feelings towards her. Don’t want to hear your condescending voice really at all actually.”

“I’m sorry, Theo,” she apologized again, her voice softer this time, matching more closely with her youthful age.

“I don’t think you are, Novalie. You don’t seem to have much emotion or social skills.” 

He heard her sigh and turn before she walked away, towards the door. “Where are you going?” 

“You want me to leave,” she answered him with confusion, pausing in front of the door.

“Yes, but _where_?” He asked, his tone clipped, a small hair of protectiveness falling onto him as he watched her attempt to disappear into the dark halls of the Manor.

“I don’t know. Hopefully to a bed somewhere. Hermione said that we will be staying here for the night.” 

“Sleep here,” he ordered, motioning to the large bed. “You don’t need to be slinking about Malfoy Manor.”

“Is that how you normally charm women into your bed?” She asked him, a slip of shyness falling over her eyes, though her voice remained typical in its sureness. “Based on your reputation I would have expected better.”

“Novalie,” he said impatiently. “Just get in the bed. You shouldn’t be alone when we are under threat, and something tells me no one would be eager to jump in to save you should we be attacked in the night.” 

“It seems you would,” she told him curiously, approaching the bed as she followed his order obediently. 

She could act as if she weren’t a simple pure-blood girl all she liked, but it was clear in the end what she was. 

“Don’t count on it.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it, I understand,” she told him, shifting out of her robes. “The negatives of our pure-blood world are hard to swallow at times.” 

“Torturing children is not part of our world,” Theodore snapped. “Don’t use that bastard’s parental methods as a representation of all of us.” 

“I was referring to how you’re unable to be with the woman you love,” she said carefully. “However, I have seen many horrific things in the families of pure-bloods. I wouldn’t defend them so fiercely.”

“Hmm.” 

Her words stung him, and in a way they were false, as it was ultimately his fault they weren’t together due to the fact that he was a coward. 

“Are you worried about being attacked?” She asked, kindly changing the subject as she walked over to the window to peer out of it. A change of subject was what he desperately needed, as he couldn’t stand to think of it all anymore.

“Not particularly. I could use a good blood bath,” he said, leaning back against the pillows as his anger faded, his eyes skimming over the girl’s red hair shining under the light of the moon and the flattering fit of her dress that clung to her body, much more flattering than the uniform she kept over her clothes. 

What better distraction was there than a woman to bury his dick into? 

She opened her mouth to speak and he cut her off before he could. “That wasn’t an invitation to comment on my mental health,” he told her dully, tossing the blankets back before pulling his shirt off. 

“I took my uniform off,” she sighed. “I won’t bother you with that.” 

“And you’re free to take whatever else you like off, love,” he told her smoothly, though there was still a remaining mocking edge in his tone.

“I’m not going to have sex with you, Theodore,” she quipped. “I am still a virgin, and intend to stay that way seeing as I plan on marrying the type of man I’m expected to marry. Some men go to lengths to check for a woman’s innocence, especially as of late when it is becoming more and more common for women to have sex before marriage.” 

“And when do you plan on leaving? You don’t want something to remember me by?” He had expected as much. He had gotten no where in the time he had known her with his advances. How would he escape himself now?

“You almost sound as if you will miss me.” 

“I will,” he told her, shrugging. “I’ve grown used to your prodding, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been so annoyed by the presence of such a gorgeous woman. It’s an impressive talent you possess.” 

“A lot of people crave to talk about themselves when nobody is asking,” she told him, ignoring his comment before she pulled at the blankets on the other side of the bed, slipping into it and staying well on the side he had given her, modest.

“Go on then,” he told her. 

“Go on and..?” She asked, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion. 

“Tell me about you, as I’m asking.”   
“Believe me, I’ve been asked by enough, and I did already tell you a bit about myself before.” 

“I think you’ve been holding out on me. Give me something of interest. Or am I expected to believe you’re always this way?” He watched her slowly settle into a comfortable position before her eyes addressed his. 

“What do you mean by ‘this way’?” 

“Fake. Hollow. Rehearsed. Full of shit. Whichever you’d prefer.”  
“Aren’t most pure-blood women such a way?” 

“Not like you, and most pure-blood women aren’t practicing your chosen profession all while expertly upsetting everyone around them.” 

“I don’t mean to upset everyone around me,” she replied, searching his eyes as she considered his words. “But yes, I suppose I did not get into the profession simply to help people.” 

“No? Truly? I would have never guessed based on how considerate you are,” he replied with a gasp. 

“Do you want to listen or do you want to be rude?” She scolded, her face slightly amused.

He motioned for her to go on, adjusting himself on the bed so he was laying on his side facing her. He supposed this was better than nothing, but he didn’t understand why as he never had any desire to hear a woman he’d rather be fucking talk about herself.

“My mother killed my father and went on to kill herself. She tried to kill me with her,” she told him bluntly, causing him to stiffen in shock at her immediate start with something so dark. “I walked upstairs after my piano lessons and my mother called me into their room. My father was dead on the floor, and my mother was there waiting for me next to his body. She had a knife with her, she didn’t want a quick death I suppose, and she was talking nonsense to me about love and how much she had for me. Soothing things. She cut her wrists first before taking mine, a mistake as it made it hard for her to keep hold of me. She should have done mine first and she probably would have been much more successful. I was too shocked to protest or do anything until the blade cut my skin. I screamed so, so loud and I pulled and pulled at her until I was free, but she got to me again crying and pleading as she dragged me down. My piano instructor hadn’t left yet. She got me away from her.” Novalie paused from her words, her eyes completely unfocused as she recalled the scene she was speaking of. “Afterwards, everyone just kept asking me why, why did they do it. I say ‘they’ because my mother had intended on framing it as a family suicide, and I let that be the truth even though I know it was just her. I just didn’t want it all pinned on her. Well, people talked, and it started being speculated that _I_ killed my parents for whatever reason as my parents were well respected and nobody could believe they would do such a thing, and someone actually came up to me and asked me why I did it. Why did I kill my parents, why did I try to kill myself as well. It was getting to the point where I didn’t know, didn’t know anything or if they were right about me, and I needed my own answers. I needed to get away from all of the prodding questions and judging eyes. I thought if I got into this type of work I might find my answers through observing others, but really I know why already. Some people just snap. Some people can’t handle life the way others can, and my mother wasn’t producing a son which made my father upset with her. She was depressed. She tried to kill me with her because most likely in her mind she thought she was saving me, and she wanted us to die together. There is no complicated answer, there is no better reason. That’s it, and I guess I told myself that that couldn’t be it. Honestly I think I keep doing this because it makes me feel better trying to find people as messed up as my family was. Focusing on everyone and anything else is always somehow better than focusing on yourself.”

Her eyes had slid from his and were directed at the ceiling now, and she spoke with a new tone, a much more vulnerable tone. Theodore watched her, not knowing how to respond to her story. Apparently he was jumping from one terrible parent to the next tonight.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back,” she murmured on before he could reply. “I don’t want to go back to those people. Not when most of them think I could do that to my own parents.. As a child. They just refuse to believe the truth, and would rather shamelessly blame a child before accepting that my parents could be so uncivilized.” 

He didn’t say anything for a while, not finding it appropriate to speak so quickly especially when he had no decent response to offer her. “Why tell me the truth about your mother?” He asked when he finally spoke, his eyes focused on the spot on the bed next to her as he thought over his words. “If you let others believe a different story?”

“Because I broke your trust,” she replied slowly, turning her body to face his. “And I hope to earn it back.”

“We should go to bed, love,” Adrian said quietly beside Daphne, his hand brushing her leg. “You can see Astoria in the morning.”

“I want to see her now,” she replied, her voice wavering. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.” 

“She is okay. Draco is up there with her. What we saw.. Already happened. Years ago. She’s been okay since then.” 

Yes, _Draco_ had gone up to see her sister, as if he was what she needed of all people. She cursed him for not allowing her to see Astoria now, why wasn’t she allowed to see her now? It was _their_ business, and the man that had intruded on them tonight had to do with their family, not Malfoy’s.

“But _I’m_ not okay,” she told him miserably, leaning into his arm. “I need her in order to feel better. I just want my family back.” 

“I know,” he sighed, slipping his arm around her waist. “I’m sorry. Can’t offer you much else other than that.” 

“And now I feel sorry for my father,” she went on, turning her face against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him in an attempt to soothe herself. “And I don’t _want_ to feel sorry for him. He’s an evil bastard.”

“Evil bastards aren’t normally born that way. _”_

Daphne fought the urge to whimper in her despair, biting her lip before laying her head down in his lap. “And why does that arsehole think he has any place to speak as if he cares for Astoria?” She demanded, picturing Edric beside his pathetic mudblood, the woman who had the nerve to speak to her. 

“She’s his sister,” Adrian said fairly, playing with her hair. 

“No,” Daphne said, her voice almost falling into a snarl as she spoke back to him. “She’s _mine_.”

“To him she’s his sister. So are you.”

“He’s wrong. He gave us up.”

“Perspective, treacle.” 

“Whose side are you on?” She snapped, sitting up to look at him accusingly. “You’re my husband, and you’re a pure-blood. Should I worry about you being a blood traitor as well? Seems like the popular thing to be actually!” 

Adrian shook his head and pulled her into his lap, moving his arms around her. “I’m always on your side. You’re my wife, but that doesn’t mean I can’t offer different ideas.”

“I didn’t ask for them,” she muttered coolly, adjusting herself in his lap. 

“Yes, well. I’m your husband which means I get to say whatever the fuck I want, pet. Don’t be a bitch to me. I’m your life partner and you’re stuck with me for the rest of your existence.” 

“Sorry,” she answered softly. She knew if he was any other man she would never get away with speaking to him in such a manner. “How will I ever look at my mother the same?” 

“You won’t look at her the same.”

“No one should have ever seen that,” Daphne went on, sliding her hands around his waist, resting them between the couch and his back. “I shouldn’t have seen it. It was personal.”

“Well, no shit. I definitely shouldn’t have seen it, that’s for certain. I feel like some second year spying on a group of sixth years changing.”

“Sounds like a real story.”

He snorted before chuckling at her tired attempt at an insult. “I don’t need to spy on women. They beg me to look.” 

“Don’t be a prick when I’m emotional.”

“Do you want me to shut up?” He asked, running his finger down her spine. 

“No. I’ll start crying again if I think too much.”

“Used to it. You cry over everything. I mean, when-” 

“I changed my mind. Shut up, Adrian.” 

Surprisingly, he did as he was told, continuing his soothing strokes up and down her spine. She nestled herself closer to his warm body, sliding her hands down to slip under his shirt to rest against his skin instead, making him a source of her comfort. She quickly fell asleep, much quicker than she had expected as she figured she wouldn’t get any sleep that night. Adrian didn’t attempt to move them upstairs, and that was obvious when a grimacing woman woke both of them up, gazing at them in disgust. 

“What on _earth_ are you doing, and when did I raise such a trashy woman? Sleeping on the couch, draped all over a man! This isn’t even your home, you stupid girl. Have you no shame? Get up, Daphne!”


	58. Chapter 58

 

Draco stopped in the entryway of the favored sitting room of the Manor, watching Freya Greengrass snap at her daughter who was climbing out of her husband’s sleeping arms in response to her mother’s dismay. Daphne rose tiredly, her face still smeared with her makeup caused by her tears cutting through it from the night before. She looked up at her mother, her face flashing with emotion before she stood to throw her arms around her, burrowing her face into her mother’s neck. Freya let out a shocked and uncomfortable grunt, grimacing deeply as she looked down at her clinging child, her arms hovering over the witch’s body with reluctance. Draco was not surprised by the girl’s reaction based on what she had seen from the previous night of the woman. He would have the same reaction had it been his own mother he had witnessed attempt to off herself, a blood traitor or not. A mother was a mother no matter her flaws or mistakes. However, Daphne would surely panic in moments time when she realized her mother was now in the Manor with her disowned son, just as Draco was on edge over that reason.

“Must you?” Freya asked, the distaste in her voice strong as Daphne hugged tighter. 

“I love you, mum,” Draco listened to the young woman confess, her voice breaking, no doubt picturing her mother in her worst state.

Freya huffed out a sigh, finally giving in and embracing her child in return, shaking her head in disapproval. “I love you too, but I’d love you _more_ if you didn’t embarrass me by being such a wreck, and _what_ are you wearing exactly? This is what that Russian bint has dressed you in? I’ve raised you with better fashion sense, whether you are going for a more revealing look or not. Remember who your mother is.” 

“You smell so good. Like home,” she went on, ignoring her mother’s lecturing. “I missed you.” 

Freya’s shoulders fell slightly as she visibly softened into her loving daughter’s hold, stroking her hair before scowling at the tangles, beginning to fuss with it in an attempt to put it up and out of her face. Draco glanced around the room, finding no one else was in there, and he had no idea where the former Greengrass heir had gone. Draco’s eyes scanned back to the embracing women, halting on Pucey’s gaze as he looked at him with a concerned, cautious expression, certainly thinking along the same lines as Draco regarding the disowned son of the Greengrass matriarch and his female that were apparently roaming freely about his home. 

“Morning, Mrs. Greengrass,” Pucey said cheerfully, sliding his eyes from Draco’s as he grinned lazily at Freya and she looked him up and down, pursing her lips as she pulled away from Daphne. 

“Adrian,” she replied, looking unimpressed at him before licking her thumb as she grabbed Daphne’s chin to examine her face before wiping at the mess of mascara under Daphne’s eyes as she cringed away, protesting with sounds of disgust and going on about how she wasn’t a child while Freya ignored her. “You do realize this is your _wife_ you have pushed up against you in the middle of a home that isn’t your own for all to see? Not some whore? I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t treat my daughter with such lack of respect, and Daphne why exactly does your face look like that? You and your sister, I swear-“ Freya stopped as she did a double take at the Pensieve in the room, staring at it with an unreadable expression. 

Draco stopped himself from dramatically tipping his head back and groaning as he cursed himself for leaving the thing uncovered. The wife of the man he had stolen the magical item was next to the last person he wanted to come in and discover it.

“What the fuck were you thinking,” the woman hissed when she finally spoke, looking at them with demanding eyes. “Stealing from your father? Do you believe he didn’t know the _moment_ you took it?”   
“Naughty words so early in the morning,” Adrian mumbled, looking at the back of Daphne. “We’re innocent. Curse at Malfoy.”

Daphne’s eyes flicked over to Draco as she frowned, causing her mother to look over to him as well, Freya’s emerald eyes narrowing on him. 

“This was your brilliant idea, darling?” She asked, her scathing tone dripping in false sweetness.

“Mrs. Greengrass, I’m afraid your husband’s toy is the bottom of the list of worries,” he drawled, fully entering the room as he smoothed his suit, tilting his chin up ever so slightly as he faced the oddly intimidating woman. He may hold sympathy for his mother-in-law, but never would he be alright with being spoken down to in his own home.

“Mrs. Greengrass, hello,” Granger’s voice came from a different entryway than the one Draco had entered from, giving her a worried smile. 

“The one and only worth mentioning,” Freya replied, her facial expression flipping instantly from furious to confident and relax as she smiled at the Auror. 

“Um.. I’m sorry that you’re here. Has Draco told you what is happening?”

“I thought we went over the first name-“

“Not now, Malfoy,” Granger snapped impatiently, pulling a cold, narrowed look from him. Several women apparently had the gall to disrespect him on his own property that morning.

“He hasn’t,” Freya replied, smiling tightly at her. “Would you mind filling me in? Seeing as my daughter is in shambles.” 

“Oh,” Granger said, glancing at Daphne with a furrowed brow. “I’m not sure about her.. But an Anti-Dispparition Jinx has been placed around the Manor property. We do not believe the Death Eaters are present, or have gotten through Draco’s wards, and-“

“They haven’t,” Draco said smoothly, surely. 

“-we are taking care of it. However, it may take a while, as I’m having trouble.. Well.. There definitely has been a bit of altering to the magic, especially since the house-elf isn’t able to leave. It’s rather frustrating to say the least. Draco, would you mind if I use the books in your library? Seeing as it seems most of them are related to dark magic.” 

“I don’t care, Granger,” he replied, his upper lip twitching as it threatened to curl. “You’ve already slept in one of the beds in my home. I’m not sure you could violate my things much more than you already have.” 

“Good then,” she quipped, turning her face away from him. “How kind of you.” 

“Kindness is what I’m most known for.” 

“Lovely,” Freya said, her tone sugary in its sarcasm. “Well, seeing as we are apparently under target, I suppose I should do a head count of my children. One.” Freya nodded to Daphne before looking at Draco expectantly, obviously only trying to get an answer to where her other daughter was. 

Draco opened his mouth to inform her that Astoria was still sleeping, unsurprisingly, before Freya’s eyes focused behind him, her eyes flickering with ten different emotions. 

“Two,” she announced brightly, instantly composing herself with impressive swiftness before she focused back on Draco’s face, her tight smile returning. “Where is Astoria, Draco?” 

“Sleeping,” he murmured, assuming her son was behind him based on her reaction as well as her words. “She had a rough night.” He murmured the words slowly, implying the meaning behind him as she now knew what he’d be referring to.

“That girl,” Freya scoffed, shaking her head. “Always a lazy brat. Why is she not down here helping the Aurors?” 

“Oh, we appreciate it, Mrs Greengrass. However, we will handle it ourselves. It’s not really protocol otherwise,” Granger responded, glancing past Draco as well before looking at Freya with a pitying interest. 

“So you _do_ have a protocol in place?” Freya inquired, acting completely unfazed by the new presence in the room. “I never would have guessed, no offense intended, dear girl.”

Granger smiled without humor as her response to Freya’s words before looking to him. “Draco, I’ll be back with questions if I have them.”

Draco made a sound of acknowledgement to Granger, raising his eyes slightly as Joseph entered the room. 

This could very well turn into a shit show quite quickly.

“Why is it,” Freya said slowly, watching Granger exit the room, her eyes now following Joseph who had exchanged places with the Auror. “That men are in charge of everything in the world, yet they are so inexcusably stupid.” 

“What have I done this time, Freya,” Joseph asked dully, eyeing the woman with a neutral expression that was poorly covering something deeper. 

“Nothing this time,” Freya said stoically before turning to look past Draco again towards her son. “It’s my son-in-law who feels the need to steal from my husband, and my actual son who feels the need to ruin everything he and everyone else has sacrificed by showing his face back in a world he was lucky to have escaped.” 

“You shouldn’t be addressing him as your son, Freya. Do you really trust Draco and Adrian to not defame you?” Joseph asked, still watching her with an off expression. 

“I don’t trust any man or anyone from our lot for that matter,” she snapped back. “And I certainly do not trust _you_ of all people, so I’m not sure why you have excluded yourself.”

Draco looked back at Edric to find him standing beside his wife as he stared at his mother, his lips parted as he struggled to find words to say to her. His eyes were fighting with their emotions, appearing as if he wasn’t sure whether to be happy or completely crushed. Draco supposed having his mother accept his existence after so many years was a curious thing to react to, and he wasn’t sure how he would react to it himself.

“Will your husband be joining you?” Draco asked her, anger lining his tone as he spoke. “If so, you may want to make sure Daphne gets cleaned up before he catches her _crying_ over such a matter before she gets herself punished for it with the cruciatus curse.” 

Freya froze, her eyes falling on Draco’s as she stared at him, stunned as a haunted look fell over her.

“Malfoy,” Pucey said accusingly. “Was that necessary?” 

No, it hadn’t been necessary, but Draco was angry. It hadn’t been this woman’s fault, but this woman hadn’t done anything about it either, whether it was fair to expect her to or not. His wife was his main concern, and his wife had been damaged. That was what he cared about, and that was all he would continue to care about.

“He wasn’t punishing Astoria,” she said slowly when she had composed herself enough to respond, her voice eerily hollow as she seemed to be somewhere else as she spoke. “He was punishing me, seeing as I let Edric go. Do you believe he would have sat through her piercing screams had he not fully meant for me to listen?” Freya’s face settled back into it’s cold expression as her eyes narrowed in on her son once more. “I told you not to come back. What have you done? Do you want to die?” 

“Mother, I-“ 

“She isn’t your mother,” Daphne spluttered, the despair in her eyes at her mother’s words shifting to fury as she addressed her brother. “You don’t get to call her that.” 

“ _Of course_ I’m his mother, as he came out of my own body! That is why I can’t _believe_ he could be so stupid! How are you so stupid? How did all of all of my children end up so stupid? You can figure out how to keep this silly girl from your father, but you can’t-“ 

A throat was cleared and all of their heads snapped towards the direction of the man who made the sound, his eyebrow raised at them. “Hello there. Granger told me that I ought to come and sit with you all. Everything okay?” 

“Naylor,” Daphne said, looking him up and down in disbelief and irritation as she distracted herself from the more dramatic scene. “When did you get here?” 

“This morning. Early. Came to check in when the rest of them didn’t return.. Unfortunately,” he replied, taking a bite of an apple that he most likely took from the Manor’s food supply. “You look like shit. What’s up?” 

Freya’s expression returned to the same mask she held in front of Granger, turning to take a seat in one of the armchairs as she dropped the issue at hand so easily in front of the man sent to watch over them, Joseph following her actions as he muttered about being babysat. Edric slowly moved along with his wife to sit in one of the more secluded areas of the room, sitting down with her stiffly, and Draco slowly sunk down onto the couch nearest to him.

“Was he one of your friends at school, Daphne?” Freya asked her daughter, watching her intently as if communicating to her. Most likely trying to tell her to act as if nothing was amiss, and to not draw attention to their problems, just as all pure-bloods were meant to act in such situations, though this particular family was disturbingly good at it.

“No,” Daphne replied, meeting her eyes before looking back at him. “He was with Tracey at school. It didn’t end well.” 

“Well, she cheated on me, so,” Naylor replied in an unbothered tone. “With your husband I think actually.” 

“Who did I fuck?” Pusey cut into the conversation, squinting. “Tracey..?” 

“Davis,” Daphne muttered, looking at her husband coolly. Pucey looked up at the ceiling, thinking this over. 

“She’s what? A half-blood?” 

“Interesting you are so open with sleeping with half-bloods, Pucey,” Draco drawled, deciding to go along with the fact they were meant to act as if everything was casual. 

“Don’t act like you haven’t screwed any half-bloods, Malfoy,” Pucey said dismissively. “It’s best to put them to good use, yeah?”

“See, this is the sort of commentary I believe I’m meant to write down? Not that I’d know, as this isn’t my damn job, but I’ll humor them,” Naylor commented, holding the apple in his mouth so he could write some notes down on his clipboard. 

“She is frequently at our home, Adrian,” Daphne said shortly, ignoring Naylor. “Attending our parties.” 

“Already claiming the parties as your own? I can’t imagine you being an adequate host, is she, Adrian?”

“She’s.. Doing her best, giving it an honest try,” Pucey replied to Freya fairly.

“Actually, it might have been Higgs. I always get the two of them mixed up,” Naylor added.

Adrian sat back in offense, staring at Naylor with a horrified expression. “Excuse me? And who the-“ 

“Daphne, don’t be so outwardly rude,” Freya scolded her. “I didn’t know you had such classless friends, cheating on their boyfriends and what not.” 

“Don’t judge her too harshly for it, Mrs. Greengrass. Think she just wanted someone to listen to her whine about her sister being loved more than her by you and your husband,” Naylor said, smiling and falling into the nearest armchair himself, still working on his apple and eyeing the Pensieve with interest. 

Freya turned her head to give Daphne a dull look. “ _That’s_ what you chose to complain to your friends about, darling? Honestly and truly? You spent your time complaining about not being the favorite? What good would being the favorite do you? Did Astoria seem as if she were having the time of her life?”

Daphne looked away, shaking her head in shame and embarassment. “That is not all I did, mother.” 

“Mmm,” Draco sounded in his disagreement. 

“That same sister claimed to be your friend, Naylor,” Daphne said, turning to watch him expectantly, seemingly still doubting her sister’s claims.

“I wasn’t aware Astoria had friends,” Freya said, looking at him with interest.

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding. “Astoria and I were friends.” 

“Really?” Granger asked, coming into the room with a bound book in her hands while Draco noticed Theodore in the opposite entryway, leaning against it. “She’s a nice girl.” 

“Nah,” Naylor said. “Not really a nice girl, Granger.”

Draco snorted and saw Nott raise an eyebrow, an amusement in the man’s eyes along with a bit of knowing, knowing that he was under the impression he held for _his_ wife, a similar knowing look to the one Draco registered Edric holding in the corner of his vision.

Granger stopped making her way over to Draco to give him a curious look. “No? And why do you say that? From what I’ve read all of the professors at Hogwarts loved her, and she’s very polite. Her world view is a bit off, but considering this.” Granger paused to motion around the room. “Is what she’s had to work with I’d say she is very decent.” 

“See, you think that until she drops her quiet, polite school girl act and gets this eerie, hateful attitude on and says some of the harshest shit you’d never expect to come out of a fourteen year old’s mouth. I’ve got to give some of the pure-bloods credit for how creative they get with their nastiness, as I don’t know how they even cook up some of the things they say. She was rather nasty about Tracey, it was rather enjoyable for me, seeing as I loathed the bitch at the time.”

“Of course she did,” Daphne breathed irritably. “The little traitorous twit.” 

“I wouldn’t be bragging about enjoying your ex-girlfriend being degraded, Naylor,” Granger said in a clipped tone. “It’s hardly mature or admirable.”

“Come on, Granger. You know what it is to be cheated on, Weasley and Finley were at it in the back office not too long ago when I’m pretty sure you two were still together.” 

Granger’s face fell into surprise then hurt at his words, her eyelids fluttering as she processed them, slight denial crossing her features.

“Judging by the look on her face I’d say she _didn’t_ know what it was to be cheated on until now,” Joseph said slowly, raising an eyebrow at the debacle.

“Shit,” Naylor said, pulling his lips back over his teeth as he sucked in a breath through them. “Ah.. Well actually, that was - nah nevermind. I’ve never been quick on my feet when it comes to lying. Sorry about that, Granger. At least you aren’t still together.. You are.. Right. Okay, well. Deep breaths.” Naylor rubbed a hand over the back of his head uncomfortably before whistling a couple of notes while Granger stood there, seeming to be fighting back tears. 

“Let’s keep work separate from our personal lives, yes?” Joseph asked, grimacing at Granger who surprisingly nodded slowly at his words, forcing herself to agree and finish walking over to Draco, handing him the book, her hand trembling.

“Will you open this please?” She asked him, her voice soft as it threatened to break and Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes as he snatched the book from her, flipping it open as it didn’t open to those of her blood status. 

“Right, moving on. Listen, Granger - this is stupid,” Naylor announced, waving the clipboard in the air. “What are you accomplishing with writing down ‘suspicious’ shit they say? I could write a novel from what I heard in the Slytherin Common Room, if _that’s_ the ‘evidence’ you’re going for. They’re all violently prejudiced. We know this. This is a waste of time.” 

“It’s not your job to question it,” Granger responded shortly, having a much more difficult time composing herself than the other women in the room regarding their own personal lives, taking the book back from him.

“Uhh. This isn’t my job period. Actually, technically, I’m a bit higher up than you in ranks, and the only reason I’m here is because we are short staffed because your mates went off on some out of country adventure while chasing an unlikely trail. But sure. I’ll let you play boss seeing as you’re sad that you’re finally realizing your ginger is a prick.” 

Granger shook her head, inhaling deeply as she fought to control her annoyance and emotions. “Which I don’t understand how _you_ are considered above me. I’m.. I’m just-“ 

“Hermione Granger,” Naylor nearly cooed. “Harry Potter’s best friend. I know, you have some shit to sort out with that one.”

”It just doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“Perhaps you ought to befriend the prized daughter of Aldrich Greengrass then, but wait. You won’t. Because she’s not the _nice girl_ you believe she is, which is another reason why this little method you have on sniffing them out is nonsense. You can’t even see through the fake show some of these people put on. What is the point in babysitting the pure-bloods if you fall for all of their tricks? Hell, Astoria is probably ten times the threat Malfoy is, and it’s him you’re more concerned with. Bit sexist of you there, and you have too many commentaries on their marriage in these files. The point is to find the members of this new little group, not squirm our opinions into marriages.”

“Aren’t _you_ a pure-blood, Naylor?” Granger was close to fuming now, and Draco figured it was because she knew he was right. Draco wasn’t idiot enough to believe Granger _that_ dense. “Surely you’re a good person for this job then, despite your complaints.”

“Depends on who you ask, really. To these people? No. My great-grandfather married a half-blood, as in one muggle for a parent.” Naylor motioned a cutting motion near his neck, making a clicking sound with his tongue. “That automatically drops my name down pretty far. Both my mother and grandmother have been from decent bloodlines though, so my blood is pretty so-so, not to mention I’m pretty much considered a blood traitor at this point.” He tilted his hand back and forth as he spoke the last words.

“Your blood is _so-so_?” Granger asked, looking at him with disapproval as she continued to act is if she wasn’t completely and pathetically heartbroken by the news the man had just provided her. “What, you buy into that nonsense? Blood is blood. It’s red. It flows.” 

“Only offensive if you care, Granger,” Naylor replied, looking unbothered. “It seems it’s about time you stopped caring.” 

Theodore hummed loudly in agreement from the doorway and Draco stole another glance at Freya who was still remarkably composed considering everything that was going on.

“Well, you were friends with Astoria, weren’t you? She can’t be completely horrid if you’re a blood traitor, and as you implied her father helped you gain your position.. Which I will definitely be investigating as I do not like the sound of that.”

“Never said she was horrid, but yeah. She’s a good friend.”

“I don’t understand when or why that happened,” Daphne said bitterly, sitting back. “And why would my father help you?” 

“I’m interested in as much as well. What did you or do you have to offer my family, darling?” Freya chimed in. 

“He did all of Astoria’s Potions work,” Draco told them, his tone bored. 

“Snitching on your own wife? That’s cold, Malfoy,” Naylor replied, squinting at him as he lifted his apple into the air with his wand. 

“ _What_?” Daphne demanded in her bewilderment. “Are you fucking _kidding me_?” 

“Daphne, do control yourself,” Freya snapped, narrowing her eyes slightly at Draco. “Did she tell you this?”

“Perfect little Tori with the most perfect grades and perfect behavior, _cheating_ on a whole entire class!” Daphne went on, snaking her head roughly as she fumed. “I can’t believe this. I worked so hard on my studies, and she-“

“See, this is why people say that you bitch all day about your sister,” Naylor said, dropping the apple back in his palm. 

“Good to know you were such an honest student,” Granger commented to Naylor, looking over at Ophelia and Edric with uncertainty before looking at Freya. 

“She didn’t tell me, but I saw it,” Draco answered his wife’s mother, both amused and annoyed at Daphne’s strong reaction. 

Freya shook her head, blinking in irritation. “What a shameless girl, allowing a boy to take hold of her education in such a way.” 

“It sounds like father knew,” Daphne said angrily. 

“Of course he knew,” Freya scoffed. “He doesn’t care about a woman’s pride when it comes to such things.” 

“Why does it matter now? She fooled my mother already, and she’s my wife. What’s done is done. She got away with it.” 

“That isn’t the point, Draco,” Freya said sweetly, her eyes cold as she watched him. “The point is that she should have a bit of self decency and take it upon herself to be a moderately intelligent woman without giving all of the credit off to men.” 

“I agree,” Granger said, looking a bit too pleased with Freya’s words, her spirits seeming lifted for the moment. “I really like you, Mrs. Greengrass.” 

“Of course you do,” Naylor said, shaking his head. “Only more evidence why you’re poor for this job.”

“Draco, bring my daughter down, won’t you? I’d like a word.” 

“I’m here, mother,” Astoria’s voice came calmly as she slipped into the room, the sound of her entrance otherwise unnoticeable aside from her clear voice that was giving off no sign of emotion at the fact her mother was now there sitting in the same room as her brother. 

Draco took in his wife’s appearance as she came to sit gracefully besides him, no where near resembling the broken and weeping girl she had the night before just before she had used him for her own distraction. Not that he was complaining about her methods, as he had fully enjoyed her to display when he allowed her to indulge in him. Sex certainly was one of the oldest methods of forgetting one’s self.

“Good morning, Astoria,” Granger said brightly, clearly paying no mind to what Naylor had said about her. “You look lovely today. I wanted to apologize to both you and your sister about.. Well.. Nevermind.” Granger awkwardly turned away with uncertainty when Naylor cleared his throat in disapproval, her eyes catching on the Pensieve.

“No apologies required, Hermione,” Astoria replied warmly. “ _I_ apologize for running off so quickly, and to you as well, Ophelia.” Astoria stopped to nod towards the woman she had so recently attacked. “I regret not properly welcoming you into my home, surely you will forgive me.”

The woman looked both disturbed and taken aback as Astoria so openly addressed her, glancing at her husband’s lap before mustering up a very weak smile in reply. “It’s alright, Mrs. Malfoy. Everyone is very stressed and afraid.”

“That is very true,” Astoria agreed, nodding once. “Thank you for understanding.” Astoria smiled cheerfully at her, a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I like your necklace.” 

Freya was watching Astoria intently, her mouth set in a hard line as she watched her witha great cautiousness. Draco assumed she also wondered if Astoria had experienced the memory of her own torture as well. Daphne stared at Astoria along with her mother almost warningly. Technically it was not Ophelia that Astoria wasn’t meant to acknowledge, only her brother. Still, Draco was also just as on edge at his wife’s display. 

Astoria looked to her mother with a worried expression. “Mother, I’m afraid you’re stuck in here with us now. This puts to waste all the effort you and father put in to keeping you both in hiding..” 

“Everything will be fine, Astoria. We have it under control,” Granger insisted.

“Do we?” Naylor asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Granger gave him a look before motioning to the Pensieve. “This is rather impressive. Is it a Pensieve? I’ve never seen one like this before, but I have to say I’ve heard a few rumors about Mr. Greengrass..” 

“Rumors from who? Legitimate sources or girls who fancy all the rich men involved in the Ministry?” Naylor mused, spinning his apple by the stem. 

Freya laughed loudly in response before addressing Granger. “Yes, it is my husband’s Pensieve. It seems Draco has borrowed it, the silly boy.”

“Oh, Braden. Thank God you’re here.” Draco looked up to see another female Auror in the room, looking at Naylor with a tired expression before her eyes flicked to Granger who gave her an unamused look. 

“Yes, thank _God_ ,” Naylor replied, his lips twitching at a smug expression at the woman’s reaction to him.

“What is it?” Granger asked her impatiently. 

The girl scowled and motioned out of the room, looking at Naylor expectantly as she waited for him to follow as well. 

“Stay here,” Granger ordered Naylor shortly who shrugged in response, smiling apologetically at woman who led Granger out while watching him reluctantly. 

“Hello, Braden,” Astoria told her previous friend, picking up a tart from the tray that the house-elf automatically put out thanks to his wife’s instructions to offer such things every time the Aurors came. “It’s lovely to see you again. When I told my sister you and I were friends she did not believe me.” 

Draco watched her oddly, surprised she was touching the sweets, especially in front of others. 

“Friends?” Daphne scoffed. “I would not call exchanging services _friends_.”

“Are you unaware of how our house works? I’d call that the best of friendships,” Naylor responded. 

“Are you eating sweets for breakfast, dear?” Freya asked, watching her with disapproval. “I thought your taste for sweets had been cured.” 

“I’m only trying to help Daphne seem a bit more on top of herself,” Astoria replied calmly, innocently. “Balancing out the two of us.” 

“Aha! So interesting seeing as the whole room is now aware of the fact that you cheated your way through school, and thus making you a fraud. Draco ought to be rid of you,” Daphne shot back, sitting back and glaring at Pucey when she caught him rolling his eyes at her. “Plenty of women have been scorned for similar tricks in our community, why should you get away with it.” 

“Plenty of women are too foolish to get away with it. That’s the difference,” Astoria replied, tiling her chin up before reaching for another tart. “I do hope you don’t plan on nagging in my ear all morning. It’s much too early, and you can trust that I’ve heard it all from you a thousand times before. You may spare me.” 

“Daphne may spare you, but I will not,” Freya said kindly. “I believe we should excuse ourselves and call for a family meeting of sorts so I am able to speak to both of you properly.” 

Astoria went to reply to her mother before her face drained of color, appearing ill before she leaned forward. Draco placed a hand on her back, watching her with slight concern before she heaved once, covering her mouth before she pushed herself up and rushed out of the room, his eyes following her. 

Freya sighed heavily and Draco looked at her to find her rolling her eyes as she adjusted her dress. “Daphne, are you embarrassed that your little sister is pregnant before you are?” 

Draco froze at her words, rooted in his seat as the idea fully sunk into his skull, sure he was going as pale as Astoria had before he found himself getting up and following after her, finding her vomiting in the nearest bathroom. He closed the door behind him, watching her pull herself up from the toilet and stumble to the sink, washing her mouth.

“Are you alright?” He asked her finally, his stomach threatening to put him in the same state as Astoria, a faint ringing sound running through his ears.

Astoria nodded quickly, cupping her hand under the water before bringing it to her mouth, rinsing out the remnants of vomit. “I suppose I shouldn’t try and eat sugar for breakfast,” she murmured, looking at herself in the mirror, her eyes watering from her puking. 

“Mmm. Is that what it is?” He asked before stepping closer to her, pointing his wand to her stomach. She looked down at his wand as he uttered the inquiring spell, closing his eyes when his wand warmed in his hand in confirmation. 

Her mother had been correct. 

He had loosely performed a contraceptive charm over his bedroom around the time they had gotten married, but contraceptive charms were not always reliable, especially not as lazily as he had used them, and especially not in the Manor which had been known to have charmed walls to help with reproduction. A reason why his mother had went to the hospital specifically to halt her ability to become pregnant after she had provided his father with a son. Hogwarts had been the opposite, which had been a help to Draco in his years of carelessness there, as it was much harder to impregnate a witch in that castle. 

Draco felt Astoria’s hand wrap around his wand, checking the answer herself. Neither said anything for several moments as they both took in the situation, both of their breathing ceased. 

“Are you angry?” She whispered, her voice so incredibly fragile he almost felt the words shatter against his ears as they reached them. 

He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t sure how to feel really. He had not anticipated her becoming pregnant so soon, it wasn’t as if they were having sex three times a day, and seeing as the pure-blood world was in current wreckage it was not the convenient time to bring a child into it.

“Draco?” She asked, worry and fear laced into the sound of her voice when she pushed for his answer. She was fearful of what his reaction would be to his child growing inside of her, worried he would be angry at her for something they did together, something she as his wife was meant to do. 

“No,” he sighed, lowering his wand to gently tug her against his hand as he brushed it against her naval before moving it around her waist to brace it against her back as he touched his lips to her temple. “I’m not angry.” 

Astoria nodded in her relief, her body relaxing. She hesitantly wound her arms around him, resting her cheek against his chest. “I hope there really is nothing to worry about and Granger is correct..” 

“Everything will be fine,” he said stiffly, his chest tightening at the thought of something happening to her even more now that she carried his child. “I will see to it.” 

“I trust you, Draco,” she told him, the sincerity in her voice hitting his emotions. “Truthfully. I feel safe with you, and I believe you’re a talented wizard.”

Similar words would have normally made him smirk as they stroked his ego, eliciting some sort of smug retort, but instead her words struck him much deeper than he could have guessed, a wave of both affection and sadness overwhelming him. She trusted him and his ability to protect her and now their child, and he wasn’t sure he could live up to that trust. Not when he hadn’t been able to protect his own parents, his mother. 

“My mother is here,” she said before he could reply. “She saw him.” 

“Yes.” 

“Did she..?” 

“Yes. She called him her son as well.”

Draco heard and felt his wife’s sharp intake of breath, her arms around him going stiff. “Why would she do that,” she said roughly. “Who else saw it?” 

“Nott, Adrian, your sister. Naylor may have caught some of it.” 

“Father will know,” she said, her voice thick. “He always finds out about these things, and now-“ 

“He won’t know, Astoria,” he cut her off. “You saw your mother get a hold of herself, and surely by now she knows how to handle things.” 

“And now my mother has seen the Pensieve,” Astoria breathed. “She’s angry about that.. Why does she consider Edric her son still..? I don’t understand.. He left us..” 

Draco sighed, unable to answer her question as she ran through all of the pressing issues on her mind. He didn’t know, didn’t understand the family much at all to begin with. 

“Who told them about Potions?” She demanded, pulling away to glare up at him. “I doubt Braden did.” 

“You trust Naylor more than you trust me?” He asked slowly, a twinge of possession at the sound of her saying the man’s first name. She didn’t need to say any man’s name other than his own. 

“Was it you?” She asked, ignoring his question. 

“Mmm. Yes. Everyone deserves to know what a lying little snake you are.” 

“Again with the house references,” she mumbled, her tone unimpressed. 

He hummed and his eyes settled down on her stomach, picturing it growing larger in time with his child. He felt himself warm with pride at the idea, his fears and uncertainties pushed aside for the moment as he thought of how his beautiful witch would soon be holding their child. He couldn’t be more pleased at the mother his child would have, intelligent and perfect, everything a Malfoy mother was meant to be. A sweeping of regret moved over him and he realized it was possible she had been pregnant when he had left her to suffer alone.

It was possible she had been pregnant when Nott had put his hands all over her. 

“Are you happy with me?” She asked him in a small, hopeful voice as she watched where his eyes were trained. “Have I pleased you?” 

“Yes,” he told her, her words halting the dark cloud of jealousy that had begun to color him, the vulnerability in her tone softening him. “You’ve pleased me.”

“I hope it’s a boy,” she said firmly, looking down at her stomach as well. 

Of course she did, just as all pure-blood women hoped as it was their duty to provide an heir.

“I don’t care what it is.”


	59. Chapter 59

 

Freya couldn’t say anything, shouldn’t say anything. 

If her own knowledge and common sense regarding her husband from being married to him for the length of time that she had been hadn’t made that clear enough the simmering fury radiating off of him as he entered their bedroom made it crystal. 

She had just lost her son, and she wasn’t allowed to say anything. She had just cradled her broken little girl in her arms, and she wasn’t allowed to say anything. 

She wasn’t angry, she was beyond anger. She had moved past anger long ago. She wasn’t sad either, sad was such a weak word. A woman could lose one of her favorite earrings and claim sadness over it.Was she heartbroken? No, she had already been heartbroken. A heart could only break so many times. She wasn’t numb either. She desperately wished she were numb. They often said that when someone met a point of suffering they would become numb, unfeeling. They also often said that time healed. 

They were fucking liars. 

Nothing had healed, nothing had gotten better. Things had only gotten worse, and when things weren’t getting worse her past still stuck with her. She couldn’t escape it, she couldn’t distract herself from it. It was _there_ , and all she could do was burn in it, and burn in silence. No, perhaps they weren’t liars, but perhaps she had just never been a part of the “they”. She never would be. 

“Ah, look at my lovely shrew. Perfectly tamed.” Her husband’s voice was a quiet, emotionless musing. So perfectly calm in such a time.

Fuck him.

The luxury it would be to use the words out loud, to tell him straight to his face. Not that it would make a difference. He knew how she felt, he could feel it every day. It was why he wanted her in the first place, why he kept the scars on his arms from when she had tried to kill herself right before fucking him in that tower, electing her fate. He liked her to remember what she had done, what she had chosen. A pathetic little girl with no strength or decency, she sickened herself, and it was why she didn’t regret it. 

She deserved him. 

She deserved her fate, she deserved the constant pit of excruciating self loathing she lived with every day. But her not her children, her children didn’t deserve any of this. Certainly not her little girl who only wanted her brother to stay with her, the brother that raised her better than Freya ever could. Edric had to go, he had been becoming too similar to the men of their world before she noticed the change in him when he had found the girl, and had he had lost his simple love he would have dropped as hard as she had, and she couldn’t live to have her son grow up to be a man like those of which she despised. He deserved to have his simple love, a simple life, a _real_ life that wasn’t cloaked in smoke and mirrors. All of her children did, but not everyone always got what they deserved. 

Which was why a piece of her, just the smallest piece, couldn’t hate her husband. Not truly. Just as Edric had been becoming so cold to the world so had her husband at some point, a baby wasn’t born with a frozen soul. She didn’t know if it had been gradually or if there had been a certain moment, but she knew her husband did not come into the world the man he was. They were all disgusting and damaged products of the system they served, some of them better than others, and some of them worse than others. Aldrich loved Edric, she knew that much, and she could feel it as well. She could feel his own heartbreak at the loss of their son, his feeling of betrayal. If only he had not been shaped enough by their world to handle this better, and if only he weren’t so stubborn in his word. He shouldn’t have threatened the girl’s life, Edric would have stayed if he hadn’t. But Aldrich would never go back on his word, never try to go back and negotiate. She would never see her son again, and neither would he. 

She would never see her daughter again either. 

Two children gone from her in an instance, her children who she lived for though they’d be better off with her dead. Two children who made her so proud of their traits, both of them ill fitting in this society in one aspect or another. Astoria had so much life in her, so much fire. Freya always knew it had been a fire that would be quenched eventually, but she had hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. She had hoped she would be able to keep her brat for just a while longer.

She said nothing in response to her husband’s words that were intended to infuriate her, intended to add to her boiling insides, just as she was expected to say nothing. She only laid there, waiting for him to join him in their bed as she faced away from his side, just as she was expected to wait. 

_“A true obedient wife doesn't have to ask how high. She already knows.”_

She would be expected to carry on, carry on and act as if her son never existed, as if she didn’t birth him from her own body, as if she didn’t witness his first steps or is first display of magic, as if he wasn’t the only man in the world who truly loved and respected her unconditionally despite her many flaws. She would be expected to carry on, smile and look fucking gorgeous above every other nasty, fake pure-blood woman in her pathetic little community as if her daughter hadn’t just been under the cruciatus curse at the wand of her own father simply for crying, no, simply because of her own mother didn’t do as she was expected to for once in her marriage. She would be expected to carry on, just as she had always carried on. Always. 

She was only dully aware of stoically turning over to face him after he had laid down beside her, only dully aware of her hand skimming over his stomach and up to rest on his chest, her self loathing pulsating as she made herself feel sick with her need to touch him, her need of a warm body for comfort, her need to mourn with the father of the child she had just lost, just as he needed to mourn but wouldn’t allow himself to, instead letting out his emotions in other ways. She felt his shocked stare as she acted so boldly, touching him without being forced as a way of torment so shortly after he’d been so, so incredibly cruel, so heartless. But he wasn’t heartless. She could feel his heartbeat underneath her palm, underneath his somehow warm skin. Human just like everyone else. A terrible human, but still only a human, enslaved just as she was. She needed to hold onto him, if she didn’t she feared she would slip back down into the never-ending fall of emptiness, losing herself once more until all she wanted was to hit the ground hard enough to stop everything. She needed to hold onto him because she was hurting, and he was her husband, the man meant to be her anchor. She needed to hold onto him because she needed to show him that he didn’t hurt her enough for her to back down from him. She needed to hold onto him because she could feel him hurting too, and for some reason a small piece of her gave a shit. The small piece that if she could she would take a knife and physically carve it out if she knew where it was. 

A fresh dose of scorching self-loathing rolled through her when she flinched under his hand that moved behind her to rest against her back, hot tears spilling out of her eyes as she fought the sob that threatened to escape her now raw throat as her sorrow and mourning overcame her under her husband’s touch. She dug her nails piercingly into his chest as she struggled with herself, wanting to hurt him in just the smallest way she could get away with, a light whimper escaping her lips. Their magic touched now in such nearness, during such strong emotion, and she felt his next emotion strike her like a sharp kick to the stomach. Regret. 

_Fuck him._

Edric could hardly hear what was going with the rest of the occupants of the room, unable to get his thoughts in order as he drowned in his screaming emotions, both elated and sorrowful at his mother’s momentary reaction to him, seeing her after so many years. He didn’t know whether he should feel betrayed or thankful for her after she had forced him under the impression that he was dead to her, as he _should_ be dead to her according to their rules. After she had refused to meet his eyes when he had said her name with such desperation in his hesitation, spoken to him in the coldest tone to leave. If she had stopped and asked him to stay he knew he would have, he would have done what his mother asked. She knew that, and she intentionally let him go, intentionally allowed their family to fall into wreckage. 

Astoria had paid the price for that choice. 

His mother had claimed that his father was not punishing Astoria but instead punishing her, and Edric wasn’t sure which idea was more cruel and inhuman. He didn’t know how a man he had grown up looking up to and respecting as much as he did was capable of such heartless intentions. He had never thought Aldrich to be a good man or morally sound, but he had always preached respect and protection of one’s family. 

He didn’t understand, and he doubted he would ever understand. His mother and her bitterness made much more sense to him now, and it hurt him to see the contrast between her then and the small glimpse of her he had seen in the memory Adrian had provided him with. As much as it had filled the hollow space in his heart to be acknowledged and claimed by his mother he knew the risk of it, especially since she had been so open about it. In front of _Nott_ of all people? He wasn’t sure what Naylor had heard, or how trustworthy he was seeing as he was a Slytherin himself and apparently had ties to his father through Astoria. He studied his mother as she spoke, poised and composed only a collection of minutes away from her pained and panicked reaction to his presence. He wondered what she was thinking at the moment, if she was allowing herself to think anything. He had be able to detect the strong reactions coming from his wife during her scene with his little sister, so he assumed his father must have felt _something_ when his mother had seen him, and if she allowed herself to keep her raw reaction he was sure to take notice if he hadn’t already. 

He could only desperately hope his father wouldn’t show up at the Manor then. 

Edric’s focus to the actual conversation of the room was better reclaimed when Astoria fled the room sick, his heart sinking at his mother’s announcement of her being pregnant. She was too young, far too young, not that their world had much regard for a woman’s age. Mentally she was too young, and Malfoy was in no place to help her parent. He wouldn’t be around to help either, and he would likely never meet either of his sisters’ children. She had accepted him for a small while the previous night, but it was clear she had since gotten a hold of herself and judging by the way she had made a show of addressing his wife there had been a clear message on where she stood. 

His eyes fell back on his mother who hadn’t taken another look at him since she had put her best mask on and Edric pushed aside his selfish thoughts of being alone with her. Astoria was married, offered protection by another man and name, but his mother had to live with his father, and his mother was bonded to his father. He could not expect anything from her, not even the emotional reaction she had surprisingly given him. 

“So, what _is_ your job exactly, Mr. Naylor?” His mother asked the man, his sister’s friend he supposed, her voice still holding the confident, almost sultry lilt to it that he remembered so vividly from when he was a child. 

“I come in after the fact of it all. I come to the scene and check if dark magic was used, what kind if it was, poisons as well. Check if accidents really were accidents,” Naylor replied. 

“I see. Things are becoming clearer of why my husband finds you useful,” she mused. “Tell me, darling. Are you Astoria’s friend or my husband’s?” 

“Ah. I’m sensing a trick question at work,” he answered slowly, tilting his head to the side. 

“She’s asking if you intend on sharing what you witnessed and heard when you came into the room with Aldrich,” Joseph Nott said shortly, his cold eyes trained on the young man.

“What did I witness and hear?” Naylor asked, his face covering itself with confusion. “Not sure what you mean.” 

“So you’re _my_ friend,” his mother nearly purred, sitting back with a pleased expression. “Perfect.” 

His mother was treading dangerous waters with how outspoken she was being about her intentions. Had she always been this way? He supposed he couldn’t remember seeing her out in public much without his father nearby. He had always kept her on a short leash. 

“Draco!” Edric held back a grimace at Granger yelling across the Manor in such a way. His wife called him in a similar fashion, and it was not one of her habits that he favored. “I need you to come open this book!”

Naylor rolled his eyes and got up, exiting the way Granger had. It was likely his blood was good enough to open the enchanted books himself. 

His mother stood, pushing down on Daphne’s shoulder to indicate that she needed to stay put before she slowly made her way past Edric, not looking at him as she only slightly motioned with one slender finger for him to follow. 

“Freya,” Joseph growled warningly, shifting in his seat as if he was going to step in and stop her.

She ignored him and Edric stood, glancing down at his wife who smiled sadly at him as she remained seated, following his mother compliantly as she walked down the long halls of the dark Manor until she decided on a room at random. Edric silently stepped into the room with her, jumping when she slammed the door behind him. 

“Sorry. Forgot that you were your father’s son,” she told him, her sarcastic voice cutting through his ears, stripping him of the years he had aged until he was just a child again, looking up to his mother with both fear and the desire to please. 

“Mother-“ 

She held up a hand, staring through him. “A bit of a warning would have been lovely.” 

“I didn’t know you would be here. I didn’t know I would be here.” 

“You _shouldn’t_ be here,” she grit out, still not meeting his eyes as he so desperately wanted her to. “You should have never even _thought_ of coming around here.” His mother’s face crumbled slightly and she closed her eyes. “Why are you here?” She asked softly, her voice losing all of its edge. “Why?”

“I should have never left,” he said darkly, swallowing hard. “Everything was fine until I decided to indulge myself.”

“Yes, you should have,” she insisted through her teeth. “Nothing was fine. Nothing is ever fine, Edric. You, you were fine. You were fine with her. Without us.” 

Edric stared at her, frozen at her words as he studied her pained and tensed features, noticing the only small indications of her aging which were more prominent now in her struggling grief. “But you all are my family,” he said weakly, deflating in confusion. “And what happened to Astoria..”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes together tightly. “Wasn’t your fault. We’re Astoria’s parents. Not you. You’re the child. He’s the parent. He did that to her. And I.. Did nothing.” He watched her visibly shake and he took a step forward in alarm, worried she may fall. “I did nothing. Just as I’ve always done nothing.” She looked up to meet his eyes, finally, her green eyes even more striking as the whites of her eyes were tinged red and contrasted them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I failed as a mother to all three of you. I’m sorry that you’ve had to live with guilt that should have never been placed on you. I’m sorry that I made you feel as if I didn’t love you. I’m so ashamed that the three of you have to call me your mother, and I don’t want or expect you to forgive me because I will _never_ forgive myself.” She inhaled a shuddering breath, shaking her head lightly again as she searched his eyes, her tears only brimming her eyes rather than falling. “And I tried, I really tried to do right by all of you by not coddling any of you, by letting you go. I tried, but obviously not hard enough and I’m sorry for that. I’m also sorry that my apologies don’t do _shit_ to fix anything. I’m-”

“Mum..” He managed, his voice small. “Please stop.. I’m not ashamed of you. None of us are ashamed of you.” 

“You should be,” she spat, her chest rising and falling dramatically with her breaths. “You really should be, and you should be ashamed of yourself for coming back here! I let you go! Why couldn’t you have let me do something right? Why couldn’t you have let me save you even just a _little_ bit?” 

“Ophelia was working with the Ministry. They brought her here. Astoria.. Attacked her. I felt something was wrong and I apparated here. Malfoy stopped her, and that’s when the Pensieve showed us.. What happened. Astoria didn’t see it. She ran out.” He felt as if he had gotten caught breaking the rules and had to explain his mother in summary of everything that happened and why he shouldn’t be in trouble. 

But he was in trouble, and he was in a lot of it. 

“You could have at least left us for someone mildly intelligent,” she replied, her voice no longer as emotional. 

“She is when she wants to be,” he murmured. He didn’t know if he could stand more insults being thrown at his wife, but what was he meant to say to his own mother about it? “Astoria is..”

“Much different than you left her, yes. Spirits die in this world.” 

“Different,” he confirmed solemnly. “And also the same.” 

“Draco saved the girl? Not you?” She asked, judgment in her tone, filling with shame over his treatment of Ophelia this time. 

He couldn’t win.

“What was I meant to do? Raise my wand to Astoria? After everything? How am I meant to ever raise my wand to any of you? Bravery is not one of my standing qualities.” 

“That’s because you’re my son,” she replied gravely. 

Edric ignored the thrill of contentment at her claiming him. He couldn’t treat this as a family reunion, not with the circumstances they were dealt. “Your bonds.” 

“Your father has been traveling. I believe he’s been with his family out of country. I am fairly familiar with our bonds and how they work, but yes it is likely he has noticed my unusual range of emotions.” 

“He will kill her,” he said slowly, dread falling over him. He would kill him as well, not that that was what worried him. If he cost Ophelia her life after all that had become of his family there would be no reason for him to exist anymore.

“No,” she said firmly. “No.” She walked forward, bracing her hands on either sides of his face to look into his eyes. “No,” she repeated again. “She will be fine, and _you_ will be fine. I will not let it happen. I won’t.”

“It’s looked at by our community that they steal us, that they soil the pure, but I’ve stolen her,” he said quietly. “She would have been better off.”

His mother smiled sadly, watching with an odd, knowing look. “My sweet boy. I wish your heart was colder so you would be spared this pain,” she told him, stroking his cheek with her thumb once before tilting her chin up and dropping her hands. “But ridiculous. You’re my son, and to any woman you’re worth a pot of gold to a beggar. Don’t degrade yourself in front of me.” 

Edric caught her before she stepped away completely, dragging her back to hug her tightly to him, inhaling her familiar scent of incense and essential oils greedily while he had the chance. 

“A lot of hugs today,” she quipped, her voice a bit muffled from being crushed to him. “More than I prefer.” But still she slipped her arms around him, her hands pressed against his back to hold him to her, both of them savoring the moment. 

“I love you, Edric. Never doubt that again.” 

Draco led his wife reluctantly back into the sitting room after they had taken their time resting away from the mess in silence, finding Granger there again with a pile of books and some food messily piled on the coffee table, _his_ coffee table. 

“Where’s Novalie?” Granger asked, squinted around. “She should be awake by now, surely.” 

“She was in the shower when I left her,” Theodore replied, smirking at Pucey who scoffed at him. 

“So we are sleeping with them now?” Naylor asked, raising an eyebrow at Granger. “That’s protocol?” 

“Novalie is only assisting us,” Granger muttered though still looking annoyed. “Which is why we brought in a second opinion, as obviously one is biased.” 

“Biased,” Joseph sneered. “And what do you call a mudblood judging those who don’t accept her type? Do you expect her to be fair?” 

“I’m as fair as I can possibly manage,” Edric’s wife spoke up, looking at Joseph with a firm expression. “I can only speak from an outside perspective.” 

“Well, I don’t know if I would say it’s an _outside_ perspective any longer, seeing as you are a Greengrass,” Granger prattled, shifting through the books. “It would have been nice to know that.”

The air in the room shifted dramatically and nearly everyone seemed to stiffen, defensive over such an old and respected name being handed to a mudblood. 

“There are three Greengrass family members in this room,” Joseph said coldly. “Freya, Daphne, and Astoria. Must you refuse to pay us any respect?” 

Granger glanced at Naylor irritably who shrugged and shook his head. “I’m not getting into this, and as far as I’m concerned I am verbally agreeing with Nott. I’m going with the policy of ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’ There’s a reason he wasn’t included in the family’s records.”

“Mr. Nott, have you paid me any respect? Has Draco? I’m not _trying_ to disrespect anyone, I can assure you that, but I will not refuse to refer to a woman by her legitimate name simply due to your ancient, immoral rules. No one stopped referring to Sirius Black as-“ 

“Are you comparing us to the Black family?” Astoria asked, blinking in offense before laughing lightly. “We are nothing like that scandal pot of a family. Please do not offend us, Hermione.” 

Draco raised a slow eyebrow as there was a collection of murmurs and mocking sounds in the room in response to his wife’s words against his mother’s family. 

“Darling child. As much as I agree, and as much as I would kill to have Narcissa here to hear you, I’m wondering why you would say such things right in front of your husband. You must wait until he’s _gone_ to insult his family, obviously,” Freya said smoothly, amusement dancing in her voice. 

Astoria avoided his eyes and he narrowed them at her, irritated she had no decency to even apologize after such an inappropriate display of outspokenness. Perhaps he had given her _too_ much freedom. She still had a place after all. She may need to relearn it.

“And do you insult your husband when he’s not around, Mrs. Greengrass?” Granger asked her, swaying the topic from the ill fitting couple in the room wisely. 

“Well, of course not, darling. Why would I do that?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just going off of what you just advised Astoria. He’s not here..” 

“He is powerful in multiple ways, and he respects me. What is there to complain about?” Freya asked. 

“I don’t know. What _is_ there to complain about?” Granger pressed. 

“Plenty,” Freya replied, smiling. 

“More negative than positive?” 

Freya hummed in response, motioning for Astoria to pour her a cup of tea. 

“Then why do you tolerate it?” 

“Miss Granger, all of the rest of pure-blood politics aside, he is my wizard. I am tied to him for the rest of my existence.” 

Granger seemed to accept this answer, or rather didn’t want to argue, and leaned over to hand him another book to open. “Braden can’t open all of them.” 

“Some are sealed only for my family,” he replied, flipping the book open for her. “You may want to take care. I’m sure some of them can still sense a _muggle-born_ is reading them, and you may get hurt. Or.. Don’t take care. It’s nothing to me.” 

“Kind of you to warn me, Draco. I appreciate it,” she mumbled, halfway snatching the book back. “Where’s Blaise? He’s barely been around.” 

“He does not get on well with my wife, as you’ve seen.” 

Freya clicked her tongue, shaking her head at Astoria as she handed her her tea who walked back to Draco as she still avoided his eyes. “You won’t be teenagers forever, Astoria. You aren’t in school anymore. You ought to make better impressions on the men in our community. That _is_ your purpose, is it not?” 

“Surely that is not her only purpose, Mrs. Greengrass,” Granger remarked, though her tone sounded slightly weak as if she had given up putting much energy in truly trying to combat the ideas of their world. 

“No. She has more purposes. Such as providing an heir for her husband, looking pretty for the cameras, and assisting Draco in choosing a suitable bride for their son. Oh, and pleasing her husband of course.” 

“And I suppose when she doesn’t do those things to her husband’s _satisfaction_ then he will _choke_ her?” Granger asked snippily, throwing him a scathing glance. 

The bitch just wouldn’t let it go.

“Depends on the husband, love,” Freya answered, looking indifferent.

“And why would any parent allow such a husband?” She asked, stopping to watch Freya with borderline accusing eyes. 

Freya watched her calmly, shamelessly. “It’s all shit, Miss Granger. It’s just about choosing how you’d prefer your shit served because all of them will stuff the same amount down your throat either way. All of them want to see you choke on it, and all of them expect you to swallow.” 

Granger grimaced, closing her eyes as if to clear the image before she let out an irritated breath and went back to her reading, her eyes skimming the pages impatiently. Draco heard his wife’s small intake of breath as if she was about to scold her mother for her word choice, not to mention the fact she was openly belittling their world that was meant to be superior. 

“Based on the pictures of you and Narcissa I saw in her photo album of her Hogwarts years I would say you two were friends. Why do you want her to know what Astoria said about her family?” 

“Going through my family’s personal photos, Granger?” Draco asked irritably, his eyes raking down the witch in annoyance. The nerve of her. 

“Amy was looking at them actually.” Granger waved her hand dismissively. “She was admiring your confidence, Mrs. Greengrass.” 

“Which photo?” Freya asked, squinting slightly. “I never kept those photos that the school sent us after graduation.”

Granger summoned the book, _his_ book, skimming the pages until she found the one she was looking for, standing to hand it to Freya. “Your skirt seems a bit short there..” She pointed out, her tone both amused and scolding towards the older witch. “Your hair is the same.” 

“Ah. Yes. When Joseph was actually attractive.”

Joseph rolled his head to the side to throw a dull look in Freya’s direction but offered no witty response.

“Yes. I remember. This was the day before I had to go to the Hospital Wing to be weighed, as the school was keeping me on watch to make sure I was gaining weight, or at the very least not losing more of it. Otherwise, they were threatening to send me from school until I got better. Could you imagine how my father would have reacted if that had happened? No, couldn’t have that, but of course I couldn’t possibly just eat as a healthy person, could I? The next day I gorged myself on as much water as I could manage in time to be weighed and afterwards I puked it all up. I probably would have been able to keep it down had I not seen how it made my stomach push out more than usual in the mirror. It disgusted me.” Freya handed the book back to Granger. “Be sure to tell Amy as much. Confidence is almost always an illusion, dear. Some just are better at acting than others. As for Narcissa being my friend? Narcissa is an opportunist. She was my friend because I had something to offer, just as why most of us are friends. Then of course you have to be an opportunist to obtain a name like Malfoy. It would entertain me for her to see her daughter-in-law who she is so fond of disrespect her family.” 

“That’s..” Granger started before inhaling deeply. “Well, I hope you are better now.”

“I’m not anorexic anymore,” Freya answered simply. “No need to dwell on it, I was only making a point.”

“So are you an opportunist, Astoria?” Granger breathed, attempting to turn the conversation, glancing over at his wife. “Since you are now a Malfoy.” 

Astoria blinked, her small, pink mouth twitching into a slightly offended frown. “I’m the opportunity,” she said in an almost curious voice, her head tilting to the side as she answered the Auror.

His humble wife.

Freya laughed, cutting through Daphne’s scoff. “Weren’t you telling me how you were worried for Astoria’s confidence? What did you call her earlier? A nice girl? Nice girls do not survive this world.” 

“I don’t understand this world,” Granger sighed. “I’ve tried. All of this effort for.. Money and status. Money means nothing.” 

“Wrong,” Freya corrected, sipping her tea. “Money means power. It is power that means nothing.” 

Granger frowned watched Freya for a while as she thought through her words. Draco could feel his wife itching next to him, tortured by her mother’s display. This was not at all how she was meant to act, but Draco couldn’t help but enjoy it. It was refreshing to hear one of them say such things out loud.

“Why try to understand? You seem like you care far too much about people who look down on you. You’re a sweet girl, put your emotions into those who are worth it.” Freya went on, setting her tea back down.

“I suppose I just find it dissatisfying to think you all are as hollow and cold as you try to put out. I like to try and understand, try to see the insides of it all.” 

“The insides of what? Emptiness? That’s all you will find, love.” Freya sighed almost theatrically. “That’s all anyone ever finds.” 

Astoria looked at him sharply, forgetting the fact that she had been trying to avoid his gaze, her eyes frustrated as if she were asking him to assist her in shutting her mother up. He didn’t particularly want to shut her up, not that he would attempt to either way. The woman wasn’t his wife, it wasn’t his name wasn’t being dragged through the mud in her remarks. He supposed this was why he didn’t remember a woman like her growing up seeing as her husband had always been around to keep her mouth closed. She was obviously where Astoria had gotten her habit of inappropriate outbursts of out of line comments.

“Who wins then? This.. Game of power you all have in your own little world. People like your husband?”

Not one family ever _won._ The competition simply went on.

“Nobody wins. Especially not my husband.” 

 


	60. Chapter 60

 

“I thought you said you had this under control,” Draco told Granger flatly, noting her disheveled robes.  
 ****

A mess of a woman. 

Granger looked up at him with tired eyes, the Manor now hauntingly lit by the large fireplace that contrasted the darkness of the rest of the living space.

“I understand that, Draco, but-“ 

“You don’t have this under control,” he interrupted her impatiently. “This is not an _inn_.”

“And we aren’t treating it as an inn! Do you imagine that I want to be here?” Granger demanded, tossing the book down next to her in frustration. 

“I don’t care what you want. I care that you’re here, and that you’re unwanted. So _leave._ ”

“Brilliant. What a lovely idea, truly. Why didn’t I think of that? How do you propose I do that? We’ve already ruled out the floo, as-“ 

“Put down the fucking books and act as though you’ve been actually trained. Apparate to the edge of my property, step off of it, and then you will be able to apparate,” he told her, sliding his eyes to the book of his she had so rudely tossed, irked at how disrespectful she was towards his property.

“And you don’t think that that’s their intention? That they aren’t attempting to lure us into a trap like that?”

“I thought you said that you don’t believe they are surrounding the property,” he remarked, raising a challenging eyebrow at her. “Or perhaps you’ve been lying in order to keep everyone calm, or more believably that you’ve been lying in order to seem like you have even an inkling of what you’re doing.” 

“It’s still quite dangerous, and who could know how badly we may be outnumbered. I don’t _believe_ they are, but-“

“Awfully cowardly of you, Granger. What, are you only brave when you have your boyfriends to watch over you? Or is it that you’re attempting to impress them in hopes that you won’t live out the rest of your days alone?” 

“As if you have any place to call anyone cowardly, Malfoy,” Granger hissed, stepping closer to him.

Draco grimaced and took a step back, brushing off the front of his shirt as if the mere closeness of her dirtied him. “Please. Leave me my personal space at the very least. I understand you’re sexually frustrated, but-“ 

“How dare you!” She exclaimed, glaring fiercely at him. “I’ve been nothing but respectful-“ 

Draco snorted loudly, turning away from her, uninterested in listening to her ranting. The only people in the room with him and Granger were Blaise and Nott. Draco’s wife was with her sister and their mother, and he wasn’t sure where the former Greengrass heir and his mess of a wife had gone. Pucey had wandered off as well, as he had begun looking a bit peeky, and Draco assumed it had to do with the affects of withdrawing from his _lifestyle_. A shame, as it seemed Pucey’s lot wasn’t as well put as they liked to act.

He had to worry about his mother as she would undoubtedly noticing his absence seeing that he had already skipped a couple visits that she had been due to receive from him before he had gotten stuck in this situation with these unfavorable people. He hoped she wasn’t panicking, and he certainly hoped she wouldn’t do anything stupid. She could be more than irrational when it came to him. 

“Perhaps we would get somewhere if you allowed us to help,” Nott pointed out to Granger, looking less than eager to actually help as he was suggesting. 

“I will have to decline on helping,” Blaise drawled, side-eyeing Granger with disinterest as he adjusted his sleeves. 

“I told her what to do. She is choosing not to take my advice,” Draco told the men indifferently. 

“And would you be willing to lead us to the edge of your property, Draco?” Granger asked in a false sugary tone, mocking him. “If so then I would be much more eager to consider your thoughtful advice.”

“Of course,” he replied evenly, facing her again to return her confident stare.

Granger faltered as she was caught off guard by his unhesitant response before crossing her arms, considering this before she took a slow breath, tilting her chin up at him. “Well, alright.. Let us just try a few more things first, and then I will talk to the rest of them about it.” 

Draco lightly motioned with his hand for her to get on with it, watching Granger nod again before disappearing with the books, leaving him with the two of the men in the room. 

“Enjoying your stay, Blaise? Have you made friends with the paintings while you’ve been keeping out of sight?” Draco asked, taking a seat near the fire. 

“Mmm. Forgive me for not finding all of this thrilling,” Blaise said, his words slow as he stared at the fire. “Been feeling even less of a desire to mingle than usual.” 

Ah. He had little idea. 

“I did hear your child is having a child of her own,” his friend continued. 

Yes, his child was having a child of her own, their own. Something he had pushed to the back of his thoughts for the day, as the fact made him uneasy. It didn’t help that Granger’s confidence seemed to be waning.

“Astoria became ill,” Nott commented, attempting to sound indifferent though there was a tenseness in his voice, causing a slow smirk to spread over Draco’s face at the man’s attempt simplify her sickness. 

“She’s pregnant, Nott. I checked.” Draco refrained from singing the words at him as he watched the wizard’s face grow cold in his struggle to keep it neutral. “Do you have a problem with me fucking my heir into _my_ wife’s belly?” 

“I feel sorry for Astoria seeing as she is stuck with a husband that speaks of her with the lack of respect you do,” Nott replied stoically. 

Draco tsked. “Is that right? Shame you tossed her aside then, I’m certain that you believe that you would have been a _much_ better husband.” 

“I would have.” 

“She seems quite alright with me at the moment. Which room are you staying in now? I know you’re worried for her well being, so maybe I’ll have her scream how she is doing with me tonight, just to ease your mind.” 

Draco could feel the quiet revulsion at himself for the way he was speaking about his wife in front of others. He knew his words would hurt her, and it was shameful towards a woman to be spoken of as if she were a whore, but still he aimed to hurt Nott while at the same time ignore the fact he was considering Astoria’s reaction so carefully.

“Or not. I’m far too close to your room to listen to your toddler’s wailing,” Blaise snorted, grimacing in disgust at him. “Please make use of silencing charms.”

“Bitter you’ve no one to fill your bed? None of the Auror girls your type? Seems as though _Amy_ would like a go at one of us. Try her. You’ve no qualms towards her kind, seeing as you’ve shagged the Weasley girl.” 

“Let me know when you move on from that,” Blaise said dully, not looking at him. “The joke is growing rather tired.”

“Just take care of her, Malfoy,” Nott murmured, his tone serious. “Please.” 

“Take care of her? How _noble_ of you,” Draco sneered, his eyes flashing in his furiousness at the fact the prat had the nerve to advise him to take care of his own fucking wife. “You just want her _happy_ do you?”

“I do,” he snapped back. “As much as I doubt a piece of shit like you could ever make Astoria happy I hope you will somehow manage because she fucking deserves it. Or did you and I see something different from that Pensieve? Or are you unaware that all she aims to do is please? First her father, and now unfortunately you. I gave her up trying to protect her, and now she landed in your incapable hands.”

“You gave her up trying to protect her? Mmm,” Draco mused. “Curious then about why you had her up against your wall, coercing her to cheat on her husband like a trollop then, isn’t it? Are you unaware of what usually happens to cheating wives? And you believe that to be an example of you providing her with your best interests?” 

“It was a kiss,” Nott said flatly. “Are you that insecure that you can’t get over a kiss?” 

“It’s his wife, Theo,” Blaise pointed out fairly. “If my wife pulled that shit she’d be out on the streets the second she tried to step her arse back into my home. I don’t care if it was as little as a kiss on the cheek.”

“You made sure it was more than a kiss, Nott, and I do not appreciate anyone so much as putting a finger on my property.”

“She asked me to,” Nott said lightly, his eyes dancing as he stared off, recollecting. 

“Which leads me to believe your intentions aren’t as pristine as you tell yourself they are. She is mine. I will worry about her.” 

“She was mine first,” he said softly, meeting his gaze daringly.

Draco chuckled darkly, shaking his head slowly. “No. She was _always_ mine. Even as a child she was aiming to be my bride. The only reason you got near her was due to the fact you took advantage of the stress of the war. Your pathetic little relationship was based on her being in the wrong head space.”

“She loved me,” Nott bit out, his temper visibly flaring. “ _Loves_ me. She will never love you, and you can pretend you don’t care all you’d like, but I’ve seen how she affects you. You love her, and you can’t make her love you because you’re a cunt, Malfoy. Plain and simple.” 

“She doesn’t even think of you,” Draco said, his voice dangerously soft as Nott blurred slightly in his vision as his rage threatened to blind him. “She’s shoved you into the past.” 

“It’s what she does with everything that breaks her heart,” Nott murmured. “It’s not that she doesn’t think of me, it’s that she can’t _bear_ to think of me.” 

“Hold on,” Blaise interrupted, his tone sounding as if he had tasted something sour. “I didn’t hear you deny loving the brat.” 

“She can’t forgive you for what you did,” Draco spat, ignoring Blaise’s statement. “You betrayed her.” 

“Just as she betrayed you. She’s passionate,” Nott said arrogantly, smirking at him. “More passionate about me than she is about you. Tell me, have you ever provoked such emotion from her?” 

“She seemed perfectly passionate climbing on top of me last night,” Draco replied more smoothly than he expected given the way his blood boiling. “But no, I can’t say she’s ever felt strongly enough to suggest my death.” 

“If she wanted you dead I believe you would be, so there is no question.” 

“Ah ah. No. Even if she wanted me dead our bonds will soon be too strong for it to be possible. Her magic is already so closely connected to mine. Does it kill you to know how much I own her, Nott? She’s even got my name written on her flesh. My child is inside her.” 

“Not as much as it kills you to know that I still own her heart.” 

“Fuck both of you,” Blaise snapped. “Knock it off. I’ve had enough of this rubbish. If I have to sit through one more of your jealous squabbles I’m going to lose my head. Let us move on for Merlin’s sake. Where’s the Pensieve?” 

“Freya moved it,” Draco said flatly, irritated at the fact. He hadn’t been able to protest much in front of the Aurors seeing as it did have the woman’s family name on it. 

“The only one in that family I can stand,” Blaise replied, a note of appreciation in his tone. 

“Shocking you find the most obnoxious one the easiest to tolerate,” Nott commented dully, seeming to accept the change of conversation. “Do you reckon the Death Eaters actually are waiting for us to step off the property?”

Draco allowed the two of them to go on about the situation once more, attempting not to listen too closely to their concerns in an effort to block out his own. Surely life would take mercy on him after all he had already dealt with concerning the war, surely he would not have to endure anymore violence or the stress that came with the fear of losing members of his family, this time one being unborn.

Before nearly dozing off, movement near the entrance of the room caught his eye and he watched Astoria slip inside to join them, her expression unreadable as she glanced at the other two men before walking over to sit beside him, sitting up formally as she adjusted her dress modestly. Draco rolled his eyes at her unnecessary politeness, wrapping an arm around her slender waist to drag her against his side, resting his hand against her thigh as he kissed the smooth and tender skin of her neck. She didn’t attempt to resist, but he could tell she disapproved of his public display of intimacy in front of the two men, as that was not something encouraged in their rules of guest etiquette. However, his best mate and the twat who was in love with his wife were hardly people to concern himself with, and he was more than happy to flaunt her in front of Nott. He met her eyes with an even expression, raising a brow as he dared her to protest his advances in front of other men. Astoria watched him back, considering his expression before she leaned up to reach him, her lips closing around his lower in a slow, open mouthed kiss before pulling back a few inches as her eyes fluttered back open, studying his gaze once more before retracting completely. A flash of heat ran through his body, his breath catching as he refrained from throwing her on the floor in front of the fire and taking her there, supposing it would be less than appropriate given the circumstances. 

He moved his lips to her temple to place a satisfied kiss there, communicating to her of how she had made the correct choice in responding to his affections with her own, ignoring the sound of Blaise loudly clearing his throat in aggravation. 

“I’m so tired,” she said softly, her voice only quiet enough for him to hear as she glanced into his lap, her face falling slightly in a display of her exhaustion, resting a hand on his leg. “Are we able to excuse ourselves to your room soon?” 

Draco felt himself physically soften at her gentle, near pleading tone, his sexual desires replaced with care and sympathy. It wasn’t very late in the evening, but she was more than likely emotionally drained. “Soon, love,” he confirmed, moving her backwards on the couch so she was leaning against it as opposed to sitting on the edge properly. 

Astoria nodded and took his hand in hers as the conversation in the room resumed somewhat, though he still was barely paying attention as Astoria’s gentle fingers traced along his, following the lines of his hand, lost in thought. 

“Pucey,” Blaise acknowledged the man stalking into the room, looking much more on edge than usual. “What’s up your arse?”

“Why? Would you like to be? Always wondered why I rarely see you with women,” Pucey remarked, his voice sounding distracted. “Where’s Daphne, Astoria?” 

“She is still with my mother,” Astoria replied. “Daphne wanted to talk to her alone.” 

“Why?” Pucey pressed shortly.

“I don’t know, and I believe that was the point of wanting to speak to her alone,” Astoria answered smoothly, examining him with disapproval. 

“Malfoy, tell me you have something of use to me.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Pucey.”

“Stimulants. Preferably muggle stimulants, but obviously you’re unlikely to have anything _actually_ magical such as muggle drugs.” 

“The lack of shame you possess is riveting,” Nott commented, raising an eyebrow at Pucey. 

“The only thing I’m ashamed of is the fact that I came so unprepared, you fucking arsehole. Oi!” Adrian stopped to wave someone in, Edric and his wife entering the room, a confused look on his wife’s face. “Ophelia, lovely girl.”

“What is it, Adrian?” She asked, eyeing Pucey’s face carefully. 

“Please tell me you have some muggle medications on you, anything really.” 

“No, I do not just _carry_ prescriptions around with me,” she replied slowly, her eyes narrowing. “And if I did I would not just hand them off to you either.”

Pucey shook his head impatiently before turning to Draco again. 

“My father drinks, and I certainly don’t have anything that comes from muggles,” he told him, holding back a grimace at the manic expression on the man’s face at his words. “Why not just brew one yourself?” 

“If it were that simple then no dealers would make any money,” he snapped. “It’s not as simple as _brewing_ them. They don’t teach you that shit at school, and there is no way you have even half of the ingredients. Besides, they aren’t the same as muggle drugs.” 

“What drugs do you take, Adrian?” Ophelia asked slowly, still watching him with a narrowed expression.

“Whatever anyone has, preferably something exciting, preferably something now.” 

Draco noticed Daphne come in slowly without her mother, watching her husband with a guarded expression as she approached him, her hands coming together in front of her in a show of nervousness.  
“Ah, there’s my lovely wife,” Pucey said in a false cheerful voice. 

Daphne frowned and opened her mouth to reply before Pucey raised his hand to stop her. “No, no. Didn’t ask for a snippy comeback. Just acknowledging your arrival. I’ll need your assistance.” 

“I wasn’t going to-“ 

“Aren’t you taught to not to talk back to your husband?” He interrupted her. “Work on at least getting one thing right, yeah?” 

“Shit, Pucey. Relax,” Nott told him, grimacing as he looked him up and down. 

Daphne closed her lips, her features falling as she was hurt by his words before she held out her hand, holding her palm out to Pucey as she offered the contents of her hand. Pucey stopped his retort to Nott when he glanced down at his wife’s extended hand before snatching the white bits from it, dropping down to the coffee table to crush them into powder. 

“Sweet, sweet woman you are being prepared,” Pucey praised her, his face pathetically relieved as his mood shifted as he gathered his drugs together in a way Draco had seen others do before, but never had the desire to participate in himself.

“I admire your class, Pucey,” Edric said stoically, his eyes trained on the man supplementing his addiction. “Truly inspiring.”

“Coming from the man who left his family for the mudblood he impregnated,” Daphne snapped defensively of her husband, turning to her brother as she slightly leaned back in her show of judgement. “Do not sit here and make snide remarks about your betters.” 

Edric’s jaw tense and he appeared as though he wanted to retort, but his lips pressed together tightly as he held his tongue. 

“Well, perhaps if you had acted as you were raised to act then you might have ended up with a more suitable husband who did not choose to spend his time mingling with those who have been disowned, particularly from the Greengrass family,” Astoria told her sister, sitting forward once more as she appeared to become more alert, her temper flaring. 

“Yes, _please_ , Astoria tell me _again_ how much better than me you are. I haven’t heard it enough as it is,” Daphne answered her dryly.

“I know you haven’t,” Astoria quipped back. “I’m tickled that I am able to continue to remind you.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow, curious to know what had come over her, or what had occurred when they were speaking privately with their mother, to elicit such an attitude towards her sister. 

“Oh, you’re tickled? I suppose Theodore _is_ in the room, isn’t he? Careful, Draco. Better keep a tight hold on her. She might run off with him again.” 

Astoria inhaled sharply in offense before she flicked her eyes across the room, directing her attention elsewhere as she pulled her shoulders back and decidedly dropped her concerns from Daphne.

“Did I hit a nerve, cheating whore? Hmm? I wonder what _father_ would think of you blatantly cheating on your prestigious husband? What do you think he would think? Maybe I should tattle on you just as you’ve always tattled on me.” 

Astoria didn’t answer, still examining the room as if no one was speaking to her. Daphne leaned forward, tilting her head innocently at Astoria as she continued to push her. “Hmm? Any ideas?” 

“I can’t seem to hear you, Daphne. Pity, as I’m quite sure you’re saying something _profound_ as you usually do, always telling me useless information that I already know seeing as you’re the forgotten, lackluster child and you do your best to make up for it by attempting to mentor me though we both know we should reverse roles, as I’ve always been better than you at everything. Just ask father. Wait,” Astoria stopped, frowning. “You may have to remind him of your name first.” 

Daphne laughed loudly without humor, and Draco watched a strip of light flash past his eyes, the couch moving at the jerk of his wife’s arm as she blocked the spell. He watched the two sisters cast their spells at each other for a few moments with interest before his wife yelped loudly in pain, a large gash splitting down her arm. Draco sat up sharply, watching the blood spill from her porcelain skin with concern as she cradled it gingerly, a wounded expression on her innocent features. Daphne lowered her wand immediately as she took in the look on Astoria’s face, worry splashing across her features before Astoria dropped the emotion and threw a spell back at her, hitting Daphne square in the chest before she was able to block it while she was caught off guard. 

“Why are we attacking each other?” Granger cried from the entryway of the room in frustration, bracing her hands on the sides of her head. “For goodness’ sake!”

“Yes. Why,” Freya said flatly as she joined them, stalking over to stand between her girls. 

“She _cut_ me, mother,” Astoria nearly pouted, scowling down at the gash in her arm, tilting it back and forth. “Marred me.” 

Draco held back a snort as he took his wife’s arm from her own cradling. She did have the ability to bring out the drama occasionally. He watched as a white magical thread pulled itself through the cut, sewing it up and he looked up to see Freya dully dropping her wand back down to her side. 

“That was a rather impressive trick,” Granger complimented with interest, stepping forward to look at the healing wound as Draco used his wand to clear the blood from it.

“Yes, I have a few of those,” Freya replied with a false kindness. “Now, if you both would grow up and put an end to your childish nonsense I am sure we would all appreciate - Astoria what spell did you use on her.” 

Daphne was gurgling as she seemed to be struggling to breathe, doubling over with panic in her eyes as she coughed and spluttered. 

Astoria hummed and sat back, resuming her show of lack of attention for the alarming scene. Pucey seemed to regain some sort of normalcy as he went to his wife, looking over her with confusion and shock before whirling on Astoria. “What the fuck did you do?” He demanded, his eyes wild with anger and concern. 

“I’m not sure,” Astoria answered, shrugging as she glanced at her sister vomiting water. “I can’t remember.” 

Draco watched in growing uneasiness as he realized the severity of the Dark Magic Astoria had used against her own sibling as Daphne appeared to be drowning on land there in his living room over a small spat, Astoria doing nothing to counteract it. Draco barely heard Granger’s protests towards Astoria when Pucey pointed his wand furiously at her, Draco taking out his own wand and moving slightly to shield his wife, his eyes narrowing warningly as he watched Pucey closely while moving closer to speak to Astoria. 

“Astoria,” Draco told her firmly, moving his mouth close to her ear. “Stop this.” 

Astoria turned to look at him, her eyes set in a stubborn expression. “I’m not doing anything.” 

Draco looked back over to Daphne, watching her cough up water onto his floor, finally succeeding in sucking in breaths. His eyes moved over to find Naylor lowering his wand, shaking his head at the heaving girl as her husband moved to console her worriedly, rubbing her back as she continued to splutter. 

“Astoria Conradina,” Freya accused her loudly. “What exactly are you playing at? Do you believe this the time or place for your nasty tricks?” 

“You almost killed your sister,” Granger observed quietly, staring at the state of Daphne with wide eyes. 

“I did not almost _kill_ her,” Astoria said, having the audacity to actually roll her eyes. “I wouldn’t have let her die. She cut me, and reasonably the repercussions had to be more severe than what she did to me.” 

“Reasonably,” Daphne bit out, still coughing as she glared up hatefully at Astoria, her eyes red and watering. “ _Reasonably_ you’re a horrid little bint who is incapable of fighting fairly.” 

“Fighting fairly,” Astoria scoffed dismissively. “As if fighting fairly has ever gotten anyone anywhere in life.” 

“Astoria,” Freya said, her tone darker than before. “Your age is showing. Best keep your mouth shut while you are unable to control it.” 

“Mmm. Be silent,” Draco agreed, watching Astoria with growing irritation at how unpredictable she was proving to be. 

Astoria frowned in response to his tone, resting her hand back on his leg as she looked up at him, her eyes slowly clouding with regret.

“‘Daphne, why are you so nasty to your sister? Don’t you think you should be nicer to her? She’s young, give her a break. She’s so shy, give her a chance.’” Daphne said in a mocking tone, shaking her head as she wiped her watering eyes. “None of you should look surprised. This is her, and not surprising at all.” 

“All of you. Enough,” Granger groaned. “Please stop fighting amongst each other. Astoria, throwing around dark magic in front of an Auror is not in your best interests, don’t you agree?” 

“She’s a nice girl, Granger. Don’t worry,” Naylor chimed in, the same neither here nor there expression on his face.

“Just a bit of unhealthy competition between siblings, Miss Granger. Nothing to be alarmed about. They love each other at the end of the day after all,” Freya breathed, waving her hand as if she were tossing the idea aside. “Now, what have you decided about leaving this wretched house? I will gladly help if it means speeding things along. My absence will undoubtedly be noticed.” 

“Well, yes. We are going to step off of Draco’s property to apparate from there, and we will come back with someone who is more knowledgable on the specific magic placed around the property. I don’t-”

“No,” Freya interrupted. “I will not be waiting for anyone to ‘come back’. I will come with you and apparate myself off.” 

“I don’t know if that is such-“ Granger broke off with a yelp, stumbling to the side as she put a hand on her chest when she noticed the tall man up and down that had apparated into the room with impressive silence. “When did you get here? Did you only just get here?” 

Aldrich Greengrass smiled thoughtfully at her, resting a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “I’m very sorry to frighten you, dear girl,” he told her, his light eyes slowly scanning the room, his head not moving. “What all is going on?” 


	61. Chapter 61

Astoria froze as her blood ran cold, feeling it physically drain from her face as the sound of her father's voice reached her senses before the sight of him did. She hadn't seen her father in months, yet at the worst possible time he decided to grace their presence.

Just everyone's luck.

There it was again. That ringing in Astoria's ears that never failed to silence all of the other happenings around her. Her fear of what was to come in result of the man she lived for nearly all of her life showing up in the middle of such chaos was crushing her, not to mention the heavy amount of sheepishness settling over her and doubling seeing as she had just very openly and childishly attacked her sister in front of the whole room of people including Granger. Her temper had been something her father had chided her on before, and still she had yet to correct it properly. However, the circumstances did offer a bit of explanation as to why she had been acting out.

No excuses.

No, her father was never open to excuses or explanations, and though she was having a hard time processing what was going on in the Manor she was sure her father was unfaltering at the sight of his son. That was what her family was meant to be good at. A family of flawless actors and actresses, playing their roles to perfection.

She attempted to swallow and clear her thoughts enough to focus on the blurred scene ahead of her as she noticed the all too familiar nagging, immature feeling of affection and desire to please her father just as though she was still a little girl that yearned for his praise. He would be angry with her, wouldn't he? More than angry at the fact she was unable to control this mess in her own home, more than angry with the scene she had caused with Daphne in front of witnesses, not to mention how angry he would be if he knew that she had had an exchange with Edric.

That she had  _cried_ in his  _arms_.

"You're shaking, love." Astoria jumped a bit where she sat at the soft voice against her ear but found herself held down to her seat securely by her husband whose concerned voice had startled her, keeping her from noticeably jerking in her seat.

Her eyes flicked over to Draco's cool ones and found a softness there, a softness that calmed her just the smallest amount, calmed her enough to be able to successfully swallow and look back over to focus on her father who was speaking to Granger with ease and his usual and effortless, polite charm. Astoria had always admired her father's ability to somehow dominate an entire room of people with his presence even as he was so reserved and careful, reverent in a way. With such ease her father demanded respect and always seemed to receive it without fail.

Except from Draco, obviously.

Astoria dug her fingers into Draco's thigh where her hand was resting, channeling her nerves into the force of the action. He didn't wince or pull away, but instead brushed his lips against her temple, surprising her again with his care for her as he put aside the fact that he was angry with her only minutes earlier. Astoria pulled herself away from his security once she saw the slight raise of her father's hand towards her, indicating that she was to greet him finally. She felt her husband tense, his grip on her tightening when she went to stand and she glanced down at him with a slightly panicked look, fearing that he may make a scene at her attempting to go to her father. Draco reluctantly loosened his hold and she finished standing before walking to Aldrich much more gracefully than she had predicted herself able to manage. She didn't feel him in her head yet, she didn't have to completely panic yet.

"Father," she breathed when she approached him, reaching up to kiss his cheek, studying his false smile as she pulled back and feeling her stomach flip as she recognized the lack of warmth for her in his face.

She had disappointed him.

"Astoria," he replied, his eyes moving to assess the state of her before moving his hand to tell Daphne that she was meant to come to him. "It is good to see you, love."

Astoria pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to contain her nerves as her sister came over to them, looking a mess once again after Astoria had cursed her.

He had yet to look directly at his son.

But he knew he was there, of course he did. Though she knew as concerned with appearances as her father was he would not acknowledge his disowned son in a room full of onlookers. She silently willed Granger not to be stupid enough to bring it up, for no one to be stupid enough to bring it up.

"Your wife told me that you were traveling, Mr. Greengrass," Granger sighed. "But I suppose it's alright that you're here seeing as I've been told you work with the Ministry often."

"I was traveling, correct, and when I came home my wife was missing," her father replied smoothly, looking over at her mother for a moment. "Naturally, I was very concerned considering the state of the wizarding world at the moment."

"I'm terribly sorry to worry you, sweetheart," Freya told him, frowning apologetically. "It wasn't possible for me to be home for your return, as you have come to find out."

"Yes. As I have come to find out," Aldrich confirmed, his tone softer than before as he watched his wife's eyes for a few moments before turning back to Granger.

Astoria tried to ignore her dread at her father's dismissive demeanor with her. He wasn't a cuddly man, but there was a notable difference in his usual behavior towards her and the behavior he was displaying to her then, a behavior he often had towards Daphne. She knew he had good reason to be acting abnormally, but she couldn't avoid the childlike desire for approval from the man as she had had that desire for so long.

She felt Draco's hand on her arm as he came up beside her to curtly greet her father. Formally, politely, but not warmly whatsoever. Draco never was talented at putting on a false friendly face. She was pleased to see that he did not embarrass her and their name by forgetting his manners, however. She watched her father's eyes linger for a moment on Daphne's disheveled appearance and inwardly cringed, slightly averting her gaze away from her family in shame at what she had done to her sister. Draco's hold on her firmed slightly as he felt her shift in her discomfort, attempting to soothe her through the smallest of pressures. It helped immensely, and somehow she felt her anxiety levels dip down considerably as a calm wave washed over her. She looked up at Draco from the corner of her eyes, not shifting her head as she looked at his controlled expression.

She had to stop living for her father.

She wasn't a Greengrass anymore. She was a Malfoy, and it was about time she began acting as one. After all, she was raised to one day marry into another family where her loyalties would shift. It was clear Draco cared for  _her_ , she could see that much more clearly now. She had argued with him so much about building a relationship with her, always feeling as if he had been the reluctant one of the two of them. He was reluctant, quite obviously, but she was not innocent on the matter of making their relationship difficult. She had not truly let go of her act, had not let her film of falseness fall for him, not completely. Then again, she hadn't let her film of falseness fall even for herself. She had concocted this fabricated, simple upbringing in her head approaching her marriage, but had been forced to accept the cold truths of herself and past in the recent times with her husband, unable to ignore or forget them any longer no matter how uncomfortable they made her. No, she couldn't live for her father anymore. She had to live for Draco now, their  _child_ now.

She would always strive for her father's approval, but she had to stop allowing him to control her head, overwhelming her thought process and decisions. She had always felt as though she adored her father, loved him more than her mother, but truly she was not sure if that were the case. She did love her father, she did, but her obsession with pleasing him only came from her desperation of needing his approval. She  _feared_ him, but only had little real affection for him. She didn't want to live attempting to please out of fear and desperation any longer. She wanted to live to please a man who she cared for out of love, not nerves. She wasn't afraid of Draco, and Draco allowed her to be human far more than her father or her mother ever did, more than most of the witches and wizards in their community actually. She was lucky, and she was ungrateful seeing as she had to keep reminding herself of her luck. Draco didn't want her perfection. Perfection was the reason he had resented her in the first place, perfection he thought she had, perfection she pretended to have, thought she had herself as well. He wanted her loyalty, her respect. After all Draco was just like her, wasn't he? He had grown up trying desperately to please a father that was quite hard to love. She wouldn't pretend that Lucius Malfoy as respectable as her own father, and she knew her father held a much different mentality to her father-in-law, but in the end both Draco and herself lived stiffly and falsely out of fear, fear of rejection from the person they were taught mattered most; the man of the house. Draco had told her she was replaceable, had tried to act as much many times, but Astoria could easily see through it.  _She_  had made Draco feel replaceable, not good enough for her. She had always seen herself as the one dehumanized, the trophy, but she was beginning to truly understand that she had seen him as simply her trophy as well, her reward for her efforts towards perfection. She had made him insecure just as he had made her insecure, and that was no way for either of them to live, not to mention unnecessary seeing as they could easily choose to care for each other sincerely and not simply choose to be miserable for the rest of their lives by refusing. She had been working for his affections, even manipulating him as well while using his vulnerability for her to her advantage. Out of unintentional habit or not there was no excuse for that behavior. She hadn't been working for his affections out of care for him, but care for herself in wanting his love and attention, not because she wanted him to feel hers.

She was selfish.

At least Draco never tried to act innocent, or even let himself  _believe_ himself innocent. Perhaps she had scolded herself for misbehaving, but she only took responsibility at surface level. She had been so stuck on the fear of herself being lonely that she didn't take much time on the fact that he was just as lonely, if not more so. Still she had been stuck on being ultimately devoted to her father, a man who did not need her full devotion instead of her husband who did need her, wanted her. She had accepted she was horrible at being a wife, not for the reasons she had been scolding herself for up until then, but for not truly caring about the man she was bound to and only caring about their silly rules and obsession with appearances. The same silly rules and obsession with appearances that stole the heart from her family.

Impressions were important, yes, but family had to start coming first. If she couldn't stop the cycle of their world she could at least make it less empty and miserable. She had been miserable her entire life. Not because her brother ran away from them all, but because of what he ran away from. He only left her alone in her misery, but she would have been miserable all the same. Half of her hated being a pureblood.

Half of her hated the events, the dancing, the small talk, the fake smiles, the tight hairstyles she always wore, being polite to everyone she didn't care for, the obnoxious, sugary way she presented herself to guests, the uncomfortable outfits, the expectations, lying to herself that all she wanted was to be a good wife, making herself believe she only wanted a simple and proper life, being  _bored_ all the time. Everything was always so incredibly  _boring_. A part of her strongly hated everything about what she had told herself she was, what she convinced everyone she was. If she truly was the perfect and proper wife she had always been so confident she would be at heart and that was who she truly  _wanted_ to be then she would be exactly that. Obviously the way she had been acting as a wife to Draco and her frequent outbursts had only proven that she was not completely what everyone thought her to be, who she was  _supposed_ to be according to their stupid rules and pointless expectations. Half of her was the same, whiny and stubborn little brat she was before everything changed in her family.

And Draco still wanted her for it.

But half of her was still that boring and reserved self, and she had separated the two halves for so long, forgotten the first half for so long, that she had no idea how to balance the two now that the other was coming into play. No idea how to mature the one she had forgotten, leading her to childish and temperamental mistakes such as harming her sister far more than harmless sibling squabble. She was broken, as they all were broken.

It wasn't her fault, it wasn't her parents' fault, it wasn't her brother's fault. It was everyone's fault, not that placing blame ever got anyone anywhere, ever changed any facts or heartbreaks. No, she was still broken, and she had to stop pretending she wasn't if she wanted to piece herself together. She didn't want to be eternally angry like her mother, but she didn't want to purely be Mrs. Malfoy like Narcissa either. She only wanted to be who she was, she only wanted Draco to be who he was, and she wanted them to love each other for who they were.

Oh, to live in a perfect world.

"Draco," her father mused, breaking her from her own realizations at him addressing her husband behind her. "Where is your potions room?"

A flow of relief moved through her at the thought of them being separated and relieving some of the tension in the space around them and she fought the urge to pull Draco back when he offered to show him to the room where he had already directed him.

"No need," Aldrich said dismissively as he turned to make his way to the room, and Astoria wondered if that was really where he was going, though she did suppose that if they were to be risking a confrontation with the threat that had trapped them in the home there were most likely several potions that could be of use. However, she only knew how to make poisons, as that was all that was taught to her by her father, so she didn't really know  _what_ would be useful in their situation. She was horrid at Potions after all, as everyone now new thanks to Draco.

"Do you want to follow your husband, Mrs. Greengrass?" Granger asked, watching her father retreat. "I'm wondering if you could help us actually, I think-"

"If my husband wanted me to follow him I would be doing just that," her mother quipped, walking past Granger towards the back area of the Manor where the rest of the aurors were preparing themselves. "Come along then. Pleased to see you finally suspect I just  _may_ be more useful than a rock."

Yes, unless her father directed them to follow; they were not to follow.

"Don't think this could get much worse for you and your mudblood," Astoria heard Theodore say, a cold amusement in his tone. "Though I can't say I'm the smallest bit sorry for you and your foolish leech of a bride."

"Nott, why the fuck-" Adrian started as Astoria shifted her attention to the scene, the target of Theodore's taunts cutting him off.

"Now, please don't take this as a threat, Nott," Edric said calmly, his voice falsely polite over the underlining dangerous anger. "At this point I have no reason whatsoever to attempt to avoid any scene, so I would  _suggest_ not to push me to make one by opening your mouth about my wife only once more."

"At least wait until he comes up with something somewhat clever and the smallest bit original," his wife scoffed, shaking her head and acting unimpressed with Theodore's jabs, but Astoria noticed her hand slip over Edric's leg in a warning fashion.

Theodore laughed loudly, sitting up, his eyes flashing with hostility. "Am I supposed to be  _scared_ of a washed up, disowned blood traitor who hasn't come in contact with any  _real_ magic since he decided to throw his pride as well as his balls to a worthless-"

"I didn't say whether or not you should fear me, but if you would like me to show you why you shouldn't feel so incredibly threatening simply because you murdered a few unsuspecting muggles and muggle-borns who never had a chance due to the fact that they knew nothing of the advanced dark magic that you do then I would be more than pleased to do so," Edric said smoothly, his head tilting slightly as he didn't attempt to incline himself forward as Theodore had, his calm smile growing slightly as he watched him. "From what I have seen of you and Draco I do not believe you are as well equipped in the arts as you believe yourself to be."

Astoria's jaw tensed as she tried to shake the infuriating and inappropriate twinge of pride for her former sibling and she moved her eyes to glance at Draco's face, expecting him to speak up when Theodore visibly bristled as he tried to hold onto his condescendingly amused expression, his body tensing as if he were preparing himself to draw his wand.

Disowned or not, it was foolish to attempt to be condescending towards a Greengrass, as Theodore just appeared silly in comparison.

Draco looked as though he had no interest in halting the potential fight, and Astoria turned her head towards him along with her gaze to give him a more pointed look.

"Did you need something? You have a mouth," Draco drawled to her.

Astoria inhaled deeply, irritated at his response and glanced back over at the two before looking up at him again.

"Who would you bet on, love? Your boyfriend or the blood traitor? I'm deciding whether or not I should allow them to fight in my home," Draco mused.

"Draco," she protested quietly. "Please. This is the last thing we need to happen."

"I believe I asked you a question," Draco replied, still watching the scene thoughtfully. "I have allowed enough of your insolence for one night."

Astoria exhaled through her nose slowly, fighting herself on a noticeably frustrated expression. This was the last conversation she wanted to be having, and she was slightly hurt that her husband was forcing her to acknowledge Edric even more than she already had,  _especially_ while her father was in their home.

"Naturally," Astoria said slowly, struggling with her word choice. "Considering the family one of them was raised by is the same family who raised and taught  _me_  magic, I-"

"Nott, your  _love_ sees you too weak to defeat a simple blood traitor," Draco said loudly, the amused curl to his lips becoming even more blatant before he clicked his tongue mockingly. "Shame when the woman you're obsessed with doesn't believe in you."

Astoria winced at the several looks thrown her way, one being of the man she just favorably acknowledged whose eyes flickered with slight surprise and the smallest amount of smugness before the smugness in his face became more apparent when Theodore faltered as his pride was hit before he gave her a cold acknowledgment.

"Yes, well I have to admit that I don't particularly care for any pathetic little blood traitors having faith in me when it comes to their fellow kind. Not surprising whatsoever, she would have left with him if she were able according to what we have all witnessed. I'm beginning to realize that things worked out in my favor considering what is coming to light."

She couldn't control her hurt response to his insult, imagining she looked as though she had just been struck by the man, immediately looking away from him in both shame and pain as the man who had so fiercely claimed to love her, who she greatly damaged her marriage for, inflicted such a harsh blow.

"Truly classy of you to insult my wife in her own home," Draco said softly, coldly as he seemed to be angry  _for_ her instead of for himself at his property being insulted, instead of being angry  _at_ her for being wounded by another man's opinion of her, the same man she had greatly disrespected him with as well as humiliated his pride. "Especially seeing as she has no obligation to allow you to stay, nor do I."

Astoria noted his word choice in the way he awarded her with the concept that it was  _her_ home and she also had control over who was allowed to be in it, making her breath catch slightly at his public respect towards her, as even such a simple thing meant a great deal to her.

"Does it make you feel good, Nott," Edric chuckled, his voice slow and steady. "Does it make you feel good to degrade women who have caused you no harm? Or rather, does it make you feel even  _better_ to degrade the woman you took advantage of and selfishly used for your own pleasure? The woman you potentially ruined forever had Malfoy decided to be as merciful as most men in this community?"

"It makes him feel wonderful," Draco sneered, his temper visibly flaring now, a much different approach to anger than Edric had. "His poor little pride has been insulted so much by Astoria that humiliating her gives him the sickest sense of satisfaction."

"Attempting to piss off as many people as you possibly can in all of three minutes, son?" Joseph Nott asked his son tensely, eyeing the two men who had their eyes trained coldly on Theodore.

"What do you know. Nott is a fucking arsehole. What else is new," Adrian interrupted as Astoria regained her composure and attempted to brush of Theodore's claim that he was lucky that he had lost her, grateful for Adrian's interjection. "Now, I believe there are more pressing matters than sending Nott to Mungo's, my dear brother. How do you plan on saving you and your wife from the big bad daddy Greengrass? Memory charm? Threats? Or, if you're really daring, I'd say you should off him."

Astoria gave Adrian a withering look, shaking her head. "It's not appropriate to joke about murdering my father openly like this. He is still your father-in-law. Respect is necessary."

"Who said I was - oi! Love! I was joking!" Adrian called out to Daphne who had stiffly gotten up, striding towards the direction her father had gone, ignoring her husband's protests, disapparating when Adrian stood and attempted to follow.

"Where is she going?" Edric said slowly. "Is her room that way?"

Astoria stared after her, tilting her head in wonder as she shook her head. She couldn't possibly be so foolish as to follow father while he quite purposely left to be alone? It was a known, unspoken rule to not follow him unless he directed you to do so. Given the attitude she was displaying as she exited the room she especially should not be going anywhere near Aldrich.

"Ah.. What am I meant to do in this situation exactly? Follow her? Join her in what seems to be a confrontation?"

"No," both Astoria and Edric said in unison.

"Would rather you keep your distance from Greengrass," Rhys said, shaking his head as if he wanted nothing to do with any of this. "We can fetch you a new wife if she really is going to pick a fight with him."

She turned and looked at Rhys sharply. "You can't possibly see my sister as someone so disposable? She is  _much_ more than Adrian deserves. Besides, my father wouldn't harm either of us like that to where you should be fearing for her to that sort of extent."

An odd silence fell over the room in a way that made Astoria highly uncomfortable, her breath catching as she became still, not wanting her breaths to cut through the disturbing quietness.

"Don't take him seriously, Tor," Adrian finally spoke, his normal lighthearted tone sounding off. "Mum loves Daphne too much, I'll be sure to tell her he said that and he'll pay for it. Besides, pretty sure you'll be the only one harming my wife tonight."

Astoria frowned, shaking her head as she shook off her guilt at him mentioning the attack of her sister. She had a bad habit of taking things too far. She sighed, looking back to Draco, supposing they could only wait until she came back down.

Aldrich slowly paced the Manor's Potions room, his jaw tense as he counted his steps in the back of his mind, attempting to clear his head enough to think everything over carefully to choose the best way he should deal with the issues at hand. Feeling his wife react to the sight of their son had hit him much harder than anything had hit him in quite a while from her. Fear, fear above everything, fear of  _him_. The fear he had lived for, indulged in and enjoyed in his power over her, but it wasn't fear for  _herself_ that she felt. Fear only for their son that she had foolishly let go. She had no right to have fear for him, it was her doing that he was in this situation in the first place, her doing that Aldrich had lost him, and her doing that he had harmed their youngest in his loss of temper. Their son was a boy at the time, it was not terribly shocking that he would act like an idiot and believe he wanted some useless girl who had absolutely no depth to her, not compared to his own mother who the simple girl held no comparison to. Just as the muggle who his wife felt she had loved as a girl held no comparison to himself, but still she had believed it was real. For as intelligent as she was, she was a pathetic idiot at times, just as his son was.

It was frustrating to Aldrich discovering his new response to his wife's pain and fear that came from being married to him. It used to thrill him, drive him, and now it all came with something different. It began when he had tortured Astoria purely to punish Freya in his own unimaginable anger, and instead he gained no satisfaction from torturing Freya to that point. Using her own painful past and mixing it with an excruciating present had been especially cruel of him, and hurting his own child in such a way was not something he fancied looking back on. He had always thought himself low, but he had never  _disgusted_ himself the way he had after he had realized what he had done, not truly. Not until he came back to the scene, his son forever gone, and his wife more broken than he had ever witnessed her. More broken than she had been on the Astronomy tower as she tried to fight her grief of finding Astoria the way he had left her after listening to her suffer. A sweet, innocent girl who had little patience for their world which had amused him. She had been similar to her mother in a way, and he had ripped that out of her, furious that she held more loyalty for her brother than the rest of her family, had more love for her brother than the rest of her family, than for  _him._ So much more that she would request to leave with him. A bit unfair of Aldrich, yes, to expect a small child to love her father more than the boy who fathered her much more at that point than he had ever attempted.

Well, he had certainly gotten what he had been envious of, hadn't he?

He had made her into the devoted, obedient child he had wanted her to be. Had her service him more as a loyal assistant than a daughter, had taken her youth away from her to the point he doubted she could remember much of it it all, not when he had abused her head space as often as he did and as carelessly, not to mention the psychological damage she must have given everything, given everything that  _he_ had done.

He had enjoyed his wife for her pain, but it was all rooted in pain he did not create until he inflicted his own damage on her, but all of Astoria's pain was from him, and she didn't even know she was in pain. He had hollowed her out too much, made her love him too much. She didn't love him, he only wanted to believe she did, just as she wanted to make herself believe she did. He had to have at least  _one_ child who wouldn't leave him as his son had, had to have one child prefer him over his wife in the way Daphne didn't. He wanted something different than what he was given as a child, but he was not capable of acting properly. He only destroyed, he didn't mend.

Still, him being aware of these facts or not, he would not change. He would shut it off, himself off, and he would continue to be Aldrich Greengrass, the man no one truly liked, but always respected. He demanded that much.

Now he would kill his son, and everything will have been for nothing.

He believed himself more furious and disappointed in Edric than when he had chosen to leave. His son was smarter than this, any child of his was  _smarter than this_. Edric was the  _loving_ Greengrass male was he not? According to his wife? Yes, the loving man who betrayed his family only to return and prove how truly little it all mattered to him.

Aldrich froze when he heard the footsteps from down the hall, his more personal feelings shutting off as his boiling rage claimed the throne in his emotions as his eyes flashed. He had excused himself for good reason, and by then he knew his anger's limits. He was certainly at them. He listened to the door click behind him, considering the all around mood of the person entering. He had his strengths as a Legilimens, but he was not one to have the thoughts of others running about his senses at all times as natural ones did. He turned slowly, his vulnerability completely dissolved now as he looked at his eldest daughter with a cold, impatient expression. She was upset, and upset at him as far as he could tell, her eyes accusing and angry.

Definitely not a look his children had ever dared to give him, at least not directly.

"If you have a problem," he said carefully, his tone soft as he fought to stay calm at the nerve of her insolence. "You should be well aware you should wait until I am prepared to give you my time and attention."

"Time and attention," Daphne scoffed shrilly, causing his eyes to twitch at the sound. "And when have you  _ever_ graced me with that? Well, aside from when you were making sure I was well aware of what a failure I was. Not even then really, as you always made mother the messenger. Couldn't even bear to speak to me even to degrade me."

"If you are here to pout and whine about how I never spent quality  _bonding_ time with you then I must say this is not nearly an appropriate time for such nonsense. I do not degrade my own children. Watch your mouth and the words that you choose to spill out of it carefully, otherwise keep it shut. I do not know what made you-"

"You don't degrade your children," Daphne repeated, shaking her head as she looked away from him and laughed without humor. "Right. You just use the torture curse as punishment or ignore them all together."

He never did figure out how to properly control his family's old penseive. What a foolish decision to allow Draco to have his fun with it.

Aldrich watched her with an indifferent expression, the shame he had underneath the surface for his actions buried deep at the moment in his fury towards the girl in front of him.

"You claim I use the torture curse as a punishment, but also claim you are the one who is ignored. Are you implying you would prefer that I stop ignoring you and instead give you the other accusation you have presented me with?"

"I don't care what you do," she bit back, her voice shaking now. "It doesn't matter anymore. I can't believe I cared to kill myself trying to please you when it is clear you don't deserve any of our efforts, you don't deserve any of the respect that we give you. You make all these claims about the importance of family, shame the way other families abuse their children, and yet you are no different. Worse, actually. You are sadistic, and the mental abuse you have inflicted.. What you have done to your wife-"

"Sadistic," he interrupted her, counting the ticks from the clock in the hall as he kept himself as calm as he could manage. "Try not to use words you do not understand, my child, or I may have to provide you with an experience to help you understand the term."

Daphne laughed loudly at him, covering her mouth to laugh against her hand, becoming slightly hysterical as tears began to spill from her eyes. "You're really good at threatening people aren't you? Especially your own family members. I never believed that you were very affectionate towards us, but I don't know how I ever believed you actually cared about us, that you actually  _loved_ us."

Aldrich's breath halted at her wards, his eyes going in and out of focus on the tears that were rolling down her face as his fury was quieted for a moment at her words. He had never been confronted with the idea that he didn't love his children.

"Maybe because you were denied love from your own parents," she grit out, wiping her eyes with her wrist furiously. "Maybe it's because you have never known love, but to give what you received to your own children is shameful."

A strong chill ran through him at the mention of his parents, hundreds of memories of them running through his head at once as he thought of the possibilities of which she had seen.

" _All of us_ just wanted the  _smallest_ amount of love from you, of attention. Astoria fought for it, I tried to fight for it," she broke off, her voice breaking enough to make her unintelligible for a moment before she resumed. "I got tired of trying to please you for it, but disappointing you didn't do much either. I should have expected as much after you wouldn't even pay me any mind when I came to you as a child when Roderick molested me, as I couldn't go to mother seeing that she completely shuts off towards him. You don't even care enough for me to protect our family's  _pride_ when it comes to such mistreatment towards your daughter, and we all know how you are about your pride. I must truly be worthless to you, Astoria must truly be worthless to you as you have practically enslaved her and ripped her spirit from her, and Edric must have truly been worthless to you as you let him go. Unable to avoid your little choice game it was you who allowed him to leave, the  _actual_ father to the two of us. The man who actually loved us. You may pride yourself on letting everyone make their own choices, but don't you dare try to believe you gave Astoria, an  _eight year old_ , a choice when you gave her three seconds to finish crying over the man who had raised her up to that point being left behind as you dragged her away from him, you being a stranger to her compared to him. You knew she wouldn't be able to stop, but you watched her struggle to do so anyway, struggle to live up to your  _impossible_ and cruel expectations of us. You knew her 'choice' and you intended for it to happen so it would fall in nicely with your sweet little revenge of making your wife live through her past trauma through your own child. Yes, let's not forget your wife in this review of your relationships with your family you claim to care so much about. But she isn't worthless to you like we are, is she? She's your entertainment. Your personal slave to pleasure your sadistic, twisted methods of torment and punishment. You hate loud, don't you father? Did Astoria's screaming annoy you when you hurt her? Did that just get on your nerves? Or were you distracted with your triumph when you completely wrecked my mother? She knows how to be happy, I have now  _seen_ her happy, you could have chosen to make her happy. You could have chosen to make us all happy, but you didn't. You wanted all of us to be as miserable and lonely as you."

"Are you finished?" He asked her quietly, his voice steady despite the pounding of his senses, his emotions attempting to drag him in several different directions as he desperately tried to cut them off and send them back to where they belonged in the very back of his mind.

"Yes," she replied shakily, attempting to pull back her shoulders in a show of pride, the pride he attempted to instill in his children that she had always struggled with. "I'm finished. Finished with loathing myself for not being enough, finished with these games, finished with being a  _Greengrass_." She spit their family's name out, sneering at it as if it was something filthy and poisonous before narrowing her eyes as she stared straight into his intently. "Finished with you."

He braced himself for his explosive anger at her disrespect to not only him, but their entire family, his pride for his family name being what he had always been taught so harshly to live for. Strangely, his senses only hummed numbly, and the dull ringing in his ears distracted him from his daughter's uneven that came from her crying. He watched her quietly, his eyes not truly looking at her as he waited for his mind to direct him how to respond in the most appropriate way he could imagine until she walked back a couple of steps, looking past him as fresh tears dripped from her face before her back hit the door and she put her hand on the handle of it to leave.

"Stop," he ordered her calmly. "I'm not finished."

Daphne froze, her nerve very clearly faded in comparison to what it had been, her courage only short lived in her spout of passionate emotion as fear filled her eyes and he watched her very visibly tremble before her deep green eyes moved back to his, looking at him as if he were a snake preparing to strike at her.

"Come here," he told her, surprised at his feeling of being stung by the fact she looked so afraid of him, as if he would physically harm her.

She hesitated, looking as though she was struggling to decide if she should keep up her brave insolence or listen to his commands, looking slightly stubborn before walking back over to him, her posture not at all confident. She looked down at his feet when she got closer to him, chewing at her cheek, a habit that more than irritated him. She looked defeated, though he hadn't done anything to her yet.

Well, he supposed he had done everything to her, to all of them.

Never had any of his children looked at him with the hatred Daphne had shown him, even his son who he had erased from the family all together. Fitting, he supposed, as Daphne had the exact eyes as the woman he was so used to looking at him with such loathing, and at the same time incredibly unfitting as Daphne had been the most openly affectionate child towards him in the obvious sense. Astoria had been a prickly child before he had turned her into something more pliant, and then only more devoted than anything, but his eldest daughter was the only one to have looked at him with pure love and adoration in her eyes, not only out of his children, but out of everyone he had ever had a relationship with.

He moved to retract a vial from his pocket and his moving elicited a violent flinch from her, her flinching hard enough that her eyes squeezed shut and her face jerked away from him. He paused, slightly stunned by this. Freya had flinched many times around him, but that was due to her upbringing, not in her experience with him as he had never beat her, and she never flinched as strongly as his daughter just had. Daphne had never experienced abuse as her mother did, no reason to have a natural, physical reaction to a man's hand being raised. In fact, he had intentionally allowed her to marry into a family he couldn't tolerate simply on the knowledge that she would not be severely mistreated, in near certainty she would never experience being hit by a man. No, her reaction was purely out of her fear towards  _him_.

Solely him.

"Give me the memory. Of your uncle," he said, his voice quiet as he took her hand and put the vial into it.

"Does it matter now?" She ground out, thankfully for his own sanity not ripping her hand away from his touch.

"I wouldn't be telling you to do it if it didn't."

He waited, looking beside her as she complied and handed the vial back to him silently, her body still rigid and the air around her remaining terrified. He pocketed the memory before moving his hand to the side of her face, attempting to ignore her cringing away from it as he held it, pressing his palm against her cheek gently as he focused on gracing her mind and emotions, calming her and removing enough of her fear to display his own memory to her as well as openly allowing her to physically feel his emotions from the scene of the past he was giving to her.

Freya snapped at three year old Daphne, the tone of her voice strained and ever so slightly panicked as she watched her daughter walk around her father's office desk after she had been clever enough to drag a chair to the door to reach the handle to Aldrich's office, a room he didn't typically allow anyone in unless on the rare occasions he directed them to be. Daphne ignored her mother and grabbed onto her father's pants roughly, tugging on them impatiently as she looked up at him expectantly, attempting to pull herself up onto his legs when he looked down at her over his glasses. Freya started forward at this, going to grab her daughter as worry radiated off of her.

"Leave her," he told his wife smoothly, setting down his work to help his child onto his lap. "And I would appreciate it if you would stop insulting me by fearing for my own childrens' safety around me." He stopped to look at her, the nagging of their younger daughter's crying in the distance irritating his ears. "You, however, are excused."

Daphne squirmed in his lap as she made herself comfortable before scowling at his attention on her mother instead of her, reaching up to pat his cheek. Aldrich took her small hand from his cheek and held it in his, looking down at her once Freya closed the door. "You're not supposed to be in here when I'm working, love," he lightly scolded her, kissing her hand.

"I know," she agreed, dramatically solemn in her childishly pronounced words. "Everyone is looking at the  _baby_."

"So you're bothering me because you're not getting enough attention from everyone else?" He asked, settling her more comfortably on his lap as he adjusted his papers so he could work around her.

"Because I love you," she told him happily, smiling up at him sweetly with warm eyes.

Aldrich paused to look back down at her, tucking her fine blonde hairs behind her ears as he studied her affectionately, his expression uncharacteristically soft. "I love you more, darling," he told her sincerely, kissing the top of her head.

Daphne beamed and squinted at his eyes. "I want blue."

"Blame your mother as you received your eyes from her," he told her, adjusting his glasses before picking up his quill, squinting back at her slightly. "As well as your fierceness. Now allow me to work if you insist on sitting with me."

Aldrich dropped his hand from his daughter's face when he ended the memory, watching her without an expression. "Now go," he told her, his tone still not mocking or cold despite the way she had acted out. Even his wife hadn't ever dared to speak to him in such a way despite what she had gone through being married to him as she was too fearful of the repercussions, and yet it seemed Daphne was facing none.

His undecided feelings fell clearly on remorse when he watched Daphne's eyes cloud with nothing but sorrowful mourning, the bitter anger and disrespect completely left behind as her mostly silent tears fell into a gentle, heartbroken weeping as she slowly walked back and away from him, carefully opening the door as if it were thin glass. He didn't move as he watched her close the door behind her, holding the handle in a way that it barely made a sound when she quietly closed it just as they had been raised to make such little noise to accommodate him and his strict preferences.

The accommodation he had always demanded, but had never offered to any of them.

Draco watched Daphne return looking even more of a mess than she had been previously which only confirmed that she most likely had in fact went to confront her father. He examined her carefully, his body tense as he prepared for her to have a similar punishment to what he had witnessed of his wife as she had quite the furious look on her face when going upstairs, appearing to have little control of her temper. Daphne definitely had a disrespectful mouth when she was feeling nasty. He watched Freya lurch forward, examining Daphne in bewilderment and concern, shaking her head in disbelief at her.

"What  _exactly_ are you playing at?" She breathed. "Are you hurt?"

"Why would she be  _hurt_? Father's punishments are worse than that," Astoria said, shaking her head at Daphne as well. "You continue to prove my claim that you are impulsive. I didn't realize that my curse would turn you mental."

Draco clenched his jaw at his wife's words, his hatred for the man uncomfortably burning again.

"Sad a simple outburst from her daughter makes Freya Krat of all people visibly unhinged," Joseph stated coldly, eyeing all three of the women with disapproving eyes.

"Sorry, but I don't recall requesting for your commentary, Nott," she hissed, her eyes flashing furiously as she threw a look back at him before looking at Daphne again. "Speak!"

"I'm fine," she said quietly, her voice lacking her usual sureness as she pulled away from her mother to go to Pucey who was waiting for her impatiently, his eyes nervous and full of worry. "He did nothing to me."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Freya snapped, turning as her eyes followed her daughter who allowed her husband to pull her to him. "You don't  _look_ fine do you, you idiot? What's next? Do you fancy offering yourself up to your father's mercies as well, Edric? Perhaps introduce your wife to him and invite him over to her muggle mother's home for Christmas? He may have done 'nothing' to you for the moment, but don't assume you get to throw a tantrum at him and not have him react."

"I wish you wouldn't do that to me, treacle," Adrian told her stiffly, examining her with care. "As if we don't have enough to worry about without you picking fights with your father who just encountered his disowned son in front of a room full of witnesses, highly doubtful he is in the best mood as it is without you poking at him."

" _Your father who just encountered his disowned son in front of a room full of witnesses,_ " Freya hissed fiercely at her, repeating Pucey's words before pushing her fingers against her temples and shaking her head again. "Why do all of my children do this to me? Can't there be peace?"

"Would you relax," Rhys groaned. "You are only making things worse. I don't know why women think-"

"I didn't ask for  _your_ input either, Rhys," Freya growled, eyeing him angrily. "I may respond to my children however I please, everyone else can mind their own."

"Mummy, I understand you are losing your shit because your husband is a sociopath, but if you could give Daphne a bit of space while she calms down I think that would help. You have a habit of being overwhelming and over the top," Adrian said, his voice attempting to be lighthearted through his irritation for the woman as he rubbed his wife's arms.

"Psychopath is closer. A sociopath is much different," Edric's wife offered gently, for once not receiving any sneering response from any of them.

"Psychopath," Adrian corrected himself, giving Freya a pointed look.

"She wouldn't need to calm down if you were capable of keeping a better hold on her," Freya said shortly, though seeming to back down just a bit.  
"So sorry," Adrian said, feigning sincerity. "I forgot her leash and matching collar at home."

"It's alright, Adrian. I'm sure Greengrass will lend you Freya's," Joseph said icily, smiling falsely at Freya.

"My, aren't you two  _hilarious_ ," Freya cooed. "You  _must_ teach me your wit."

The room quieted as they turned their attention to Granger as she came into the room, not bothering to attempt to figure out what was going as she had always made an effort to so so previously.

"So, I believe the best choice is for Draco to help us to the edge of the property so we can carefully-"

"No," Astoria interrupted her, frowning before she repeated herself again in a firmer tone. "No. He won't be taking that risk with you."

"Yes," Granger said slowly, giving her an odd look. "He will be, Astoria, and-"

"No," she said again, her voice simple and cold as she directed a challenging look towards Granger. "He won't, and if you attempt to force it I will be sure to file a claim when all of this is over that you, an auror meant to protect  _us_ , used my husband as a shield because you were too cowardly to do your job properly, and I can assure you that you will lose that job should I choose to do that,  _Harry Potter's_ pretty sidekick and muggle-born poster child or not."

Draco was torn between being angry with Astoria for speaking for him and attempting to protect him as opposed to the other way around, nearly announcing that she found him incapable of completing such a task safely and between feeling pride and satisfaction in the way she confidently stood her ground against the twit after weeks of being spoken down to and humiliated as she was pitied by Granger like a helpless child.

"I do not think it is appropriate to  _threaten_ me, Astoria," Granger said, taking a step back as she looked back at his wife with a slightly stunned and offended expression. "Draco did  _agree_ to do this, and he won't be doing anything more. It was his idea."

"It seems you're rather selective when it comes to listening to what Draco says, seeing as he has asked you more than once not to use his name. I find it inappropriate for you to be acting childish and forcing him to help you with your own work, when if you had done your job properly instead of wasting your time prying into our lives we wouldn't be in this mess now would we? I've been patient, but now you are putting my family at risk with your foolishness, and I will not tolerate it."

Draco snorted loudly, shaking his head. "Now you're finished with the bitch, but not the dozens of times I directed you to be. You truly only do what is in  _your_ own interests," he told her coolly. "I'm more than capable of walking our  _brave protectors_ to the edge of my property where hopefully we will never have to see any of them again once they step off of it."

"You know if anything happens to us there will be no one left to help all of you,  _Malfoy_ ," Granger ground out at him, her temper seeming to flare in response to the both of them being against her.

"And who exactly has been helping us up until now?" Theodore scoffed, looking her up and down with distaste. "And yet so many say your kind is  _worth_ keeping around, odd seeing that all of you in this Manor seem to be completely useless, a negative actually. I believe I'm only convinced my side was correct the more I'm surrounded by you, which seems counteractive to your manipulative goals, doesn't it?"

"By 'your kind' I truly hope you are referring to the aurors, Nott," Edric said kindly. "For your own sake."

"How wise to say such things during such a conflict, as well as in front of two women who would love nothing more than to detain you as it is obviously becoming more and more apparent that you are a danger to the wizarding world. The difference between the two of us and  _you_ , Nott-"

"Excuse me, Granger, but," Ophelia interrupted, her eyebrows coming together in a scowl as she regarded the auror with disapproval. "I don't actually know you at all. Assuming we have the same thoughts solely on the fact we have non-magic parents, well parents for you at least as you certainly seem like the regular, middle-class girl with over protective parents who are most likely doctors or some other decently paying job, is a bit of a stretch don't you think? I'm nearly positive that at least once in your life you have referred to the type of neighborhood I come from and my  _actual_  'people' very negatively with your parents who warned you not to wonder off into the wrong part of town where good girls like you ought not to be going. Which makes you a  _bit_ of a hypocrite in the way you scold and talk down to all of these grown adults for looking down on others themselves just as I'm sure you have yourself on the community  _you_ find dodgy. Just some thoughts for you to consider. I get it. I have a hard time being fair to them too. Anyway, no actually. I don't wish to detain him, and I don't believe it is becoming apparent that he is a danger to the wizarding world. Based on what I have sifted through of you and your aurors' notes, which have an exorbitant amount of useless information, I am decently confident that he has done nothing to warrant being arrested. Apparently when you attended Hogwarts you never experienced a prejudiced pure-blood before seeing as so much of your notes contain basic common talk among them. Whether I find him offensive and someone I would never want to be around again or not does not mean he doesn't have rights, just as everyone with a differing opinion than anyone else has their rights."

"You know," Edric mused dully, giving her a side-look. "It would have been perfectly alright to ignore your pointless morals just in this one instance."

"And to think I thought you were completely worthless," Theodore cooed mockingly. "Turns out you're only  _mildly_ w-"

"Well. It's a bit hypocritical of you to tell me not to assume and then proceed to assume yourself," Granger replied hotly, though her expression slightly sheepish.

"You're right," Ophelia offered her fairly. "So I'm wrong then? About your parents and your 'look both ways' upbringing?"

"I'm not entirely sure why you feel so confident that Theodore is harmless," Granger said, shamelessly changing the subject to the point where it was almost comical and Draco shook his head, surprised he had found himself in support of the girl who stole his wife's brother away, though also irritated along with the brother himself at the fact that she was defending Nott.

"That's not what I said," Ophelia replied impatiently. "Though I suppose you are a child so it's hard to do your job properly while putting aside your personal, emotional reactions on what and who you are working with, but really with the field you're in you will have to work on that, and I'm not only talking about the Notts because I've noticed you like to play marriage counselor. Judge them when you are out of the work setting like the rest of us."

Granger watched her for a bit before sighing, surely disappointed that she couldn't even get the other muggle-born to be her ally.

Truly unlikable, that one. Not much had changed since Hogwarts.

"Mrs. Greengrass, your husband wanted to join us, didn't he?" She asked Freya, adjusting her auror robes, moving on from the disagreement.

"As did I," Freya said, her eyes narrowing slightly before her eyelids fluttered in irritation. "And I planned to before Aldrich arrived."

"Well. I don't know what his presence has to do with your own intentions, but I wouldn't have allowed it anyway, as I've only accepted your husband due to the fact he often works with the Ministry. We can't be responsible for anything that happens to you due to us allowing your aid. Malfoy wasn't going to do anything more than show us the safest part of the property to step off of, that is all, but it seems we have come to a bit of an issue with your daughter."

"Issues with my daughter? Sounds like a common occurrence in my life," Freya quipped. "If you're waiting for me to go and fetch my husband you may as well let the breath you're holding out, as I will be doing no such thing."

"Mrs. Greengrass," Granger breathed, pinching her nose. "I would like to get on with it as quickly as possible, I do not have very experienced aurors with me and-"

"Really? Seemed like seasoned professionals to me," Draco snorted.

"-they are likely to soon lose their nerve."

Astoria was watching him with an upset expression, her face almost expectant, expecting him to listen to her and the pitiful face she was wearing in order to guilt him into letting her have her way and staying inside with her.

"Well, then we must be getting on with it, yes?" Aldrich watched Granger have another start at his entrance as he stood only feet from her, watching her with his normal condescendingly thoughtful expression. "We don't have much confidence to spare if we expect to be successful."

Draco pressed his teeth together firmly in his irritation at the man for making Astoria tense so significantly beside him, her stress levels raising dramatically, though Aldrich did not look to any of his children.

Freya regained her usual expression and posture that she displayed around her husband, her dull and annoyed expression at being left behind fading.

"Oh," Granger said as she inhaled deeply after being startled, smoothing down her robes and picking up her composure. "Well good. I agree. Did you make anything useful?"

"And why would I waste my time making anything that wasn't?"

"Right," she said, pursing her lips as she watched him expectantly, waiting for him to present her with his  _useful_ creations, scowling slightly when he didn't make any move to do so. "Did you make anything  _legal_?"

"It wouldn't be wise of me to be brewing illegal potions given the circumstances of my position and yours now would it, darling girl?"

"So no, no you have nothing legal is what you're saying," Granger replied flatly before shaking her head. "Nevermind. I'm prepared to let it go at this point if it helps us finally get out of this before I go mental in this house"

"I never confirmed or denied anything, but it is wonderful to hear that you are prepared to bend some rules seeing as it would be much more helpful to have those who are adequately equipped to duel dark wizards properly come along with us, those who are in no danger of losing their nerve."

Draco watched Freya blink before a slow, triumphant smirk spread across her face, excitement dancing in her eyes. He had never seen a woman so thrilled at the thought go  _fighting_ before. Well, aside from his aunt.

"I don't know if it is appropriate for a former Death Eater to be aiding us against fighting more Death Eaters," Granger replied, glancing at Joseph. "I do not have enough trust for that."

Freya snorted loudly as she stood from her seat. "Don't be  _absurd_  in giving Joseph any praise by assuming Aldrich meant  _him_ ," she scoffed, her eyes still glowing.

Granger blinked, looking at her for a moment before she looked back to Aldrich. "You're not worried about putting your wife in danger?"

"I have no reason to worry seeing as my wife is more capable than I in such a situation. You are fortunate to have her assistance," Aldrich replied kindly, surprisingly in a sincere tone and not mocking his wife in the way that Draco would only assume a pure-blood male would ever say those words.

Granger scowled in surprise and interest. "Oh, that is rather humble of you. I still don't approve of the idea."

"Noted," he replied in a neutral tone before looking to his wife who walked over while retying her tight and high ponytail, smiling at Granger.

"I'm somewhat surprised you would admit to your wife being more powerful than you, Mr. Greengrass," she continued slowly, a look of suspicion crossing her features. "I'm not sure-"

"I admitted nothing of the sort," he chuckled. "Dueling is not nearly all that magic has to offer, nor does it hold the only path to being powerful, but I do believe in giving credit where it is due. What is the point of having a quality witch with impressive talents if she isn't allowed to own them?"

"Miss Granger, I know it's hard to believe I'm capable of having more talents than knowing the latest trends in designer robes, but I also do a bit of magic as well here and there. Imagine that," Freya told her, her tone overly laced with honey in a way that revealed her shred of resentment beneath her tone, her face changing ever so slightly into a more sincerely warm expression when Aldrich rested his gaze on her before she continued more thoughtfully. "My children are at risk, darling, and we have just discovered that now my grandchild is also at risk. I have to be honest when I say I don't have much interest in your cause as a whole, but I do fully intend on taking care of my own whether or not I am given permission from you. With all  _due_ respect, you have no grounds to tell me I am unable to leave the property if I wish to do so. I am not under arrest. I am sure you would rather I cooperate and join you and your plans rather than going out on my own."

Granger opened her mouth before pressing her lips together, considering this while appearing slightly frustrated. "Well if you are not going to listen to your husband or I-"

"She listens to me just fine," Aldrich mused. "And I support everything she is saying entirely. No rules or advices matter once one's family is at risk."

What a joke of a man. Draco had to refrain from snorting out loud as he drew his wife closer to him, choosing to not be offended at the fact that Astoria seemed to have enough confidence in  _her mother_ to not appear worried for her as opposed to how she dropped her sweet and innocent act towards Granger just to protest him simply guiding them to their fate.

The auror let out an aggravated, nearly childish sound in her irritations at her lack of control of the whole situation and Aldrich raised his eyebrow slightly at her, assessing the rest of her body critically, putting his judgement of her immaturity on display and Draco let out a breathy and quiet snicker at the scene. "I do hope you are alright, Ms. Granger, as it was you who was requesting me in your urgency to move forward with things."

"Yes, I suppose I was," Granger said, her expression firmer before she looked over to Draco coolly. "Though there is a slight issue in that I am being threatened by your youngest child due to Malfoy knowing his property the best,  _naturally_ , and it would be of much help if-"

"We have all been to the Malfoy grounds more times than we would care to mention," Aldrich said dismissively. "It would be in the girls' favor to not be left with too little of protection." He paused, glancing at both Astoria and Daphne. "Especially since apparently one of them is carrying my grandchild."

"Yes, I'm sure Astoria would feel so much  _safer_ with her capable and  _gentle_ husband around to keep her and her child safe as Malfoy surely would never put his unborn child at risk by allowing her to be under any unnecessary stress or harm," Theodore came mockingly.

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly and his lips twitched as they reached up into a cold smile, looking over to the Notts where Joseph was giving his son a murderous look of warning, Astoria tensing beside him.

Aldrich blinked, turning his head slightly to regard Theodore. "Quite a few implications I am gathering from that. I do hope you plan on elaborating further."

Draco felt a new wave of hatred for Nott as he physically felt his wife's fear of her infidelity being revealed to her father in consequence of his petty comments. "Not much to elaborate on, I can assure you of that," Draco drawled dismissively. "Nott has had a hard time with the fact he always comes second to me. Nothing more. Nothing more to him at all I'm afraid." Draco tsked, kissing Astoria's knuckles as he watched Theodore with a blank expression, treating the matter if it truly was nothing.

Astoria's father moved his gaze over to them for a moment before looking to Joseph in mocking amusement. "Interesting choice of focus for your heir, no? I am certainly intrigued to see how the Nott family name  _progresses_ throughout the coming years."

"Mmm. My son unfortunately picked up a few of his mother's traits," Joseph said, his tone sounding very similar to his own father's when Draco knew he had pushed him too far. "I'll have to agree, Granger. I'm not sitting around doing nothing whether you fear me being one of them or not."

"Daddy," Adrian started, his face covered in a hurt expression. "Why aren't  _you_ standing up to protect your baby boy?"

Draco felt his Astoria relax beside him as the attention was removed from the three of them and a few of the other aurors came into the room as Granger continued to weakly argue. Astoria's eyes moved up to find his as she looked at him with gratitude, the warmth in her expression glowing through her cool colored eyes, as if she had expected him to let Nott unintentionally set her father on her. No, it was their business, and he knew too well what it was like to have one's father so deeply and mercilessly ashamed of you. His wife didn't deserve that after all she had done to keep her father pleased with her. As much as it infuriated him how devoted of a daughter she was he still did not wish her to lose her spot as the glory child simply from the jealous idiot being unable to control himself and being too thoughtless to realize the repercussions of his sarcastic side comments. As much as Nott claimed to love Astoria it seemed as though he was set on keeping her miserable with how he insisted on infuriating the main men in her life capable of causing her real harm.

"I hope they will be alright," Daphne said quietly after they left, watching the ground.

"All of them, dove? 'Cause I can think of a few I could do without, quite sure my father will be fine as he weasels his way out of everything, and considering the look on your face when you went upstairs to-"

"Do you speak just to hear your own voice? Because believe me when I say that nobody else is interested in your unnecessary prattle," Edric said, his tone prickled with irritation as he made a presence of himself again once his father had gone, reminding Draco of his existence after being so unnoticeable in his silence with Aldrich in the room. "They will be fine. Perhaps no one will be waiting for them at all. They are only taking extra precaution."

To Draco's shock Daphne nodded slowly to her brother's words instead of snapping at him as she had been responding to him thus far, ignoring his short words to her husband who was squinting at his wife's lack of defenses. "I would have to disagree with you there, Eddy, I know  _several_ people who just love to hear my voice as well as myself, thank you kindly. Zabini really just going to hole himself up? Splitting up never ended up well."

"Considering certain Manor guests are present at the moment I would say it is understandable," Theodore said, examining Edric distastefully.

"Right. You. You want Greengrass to murder you, yeah? Is that why you're serving up you and your mummy's transgressions on a platter for him to examine?"

"No, he wants Astoria to suffer as he is a pathetic child who makes himself believe he is more morally sound than everyone else to the point it blinds him to the fact he is destroying her," Edric said before Draco could interject himself, his pleasant but threatening tone resembling his father's even more so now, but it was clear his temper was not as polished.

"That wasn't my intention, though it's  _so_ incredibly interesting you feel it your place to mention  _anyone_ destroying-"

"Nothing is ever your intention," Adrian snorted in disgust, pleasing Draco in the rare moments Pucey decided to drop his carefree act and treat things seriously. "That excuse doesn't change shit."

Draco noticed his wife shift beside him uncomfortably and he glanced at her face, taking in the resentful look she was giving the wall as she stared off, her eyes unfocused. "There is no reason to be speaking of Astoria as if she isn't in the room," he told them coolly. "Especially seeing as this is  _her_ manor. Why don't you do all of us a favor and run along to your carrier of chaos, Nott?"

From his peripheral vision Draco could see Astoria's lips twitch as she glanced down at her lap, fighting a smile at what he assumed his words that awarded her ownership of their home together.

"Yes, where  _is_ Novalie?" Ophelia asked, looking towards the stairs. "She fancies causing problems yet doesn't wish to be a part of them, does she?"

"They're all like that," Astoria sniffed, sitting up straighter "That pure-blood community's behaviors are questionable at best, and Eld-"

"Novalie Eld," Edric interrupted her, recognition covering his features as Astoria pressed her lips together tightly in annoyance at being cut off by the man she was pretending didn't exist. "The mad one who murdered her parents."

"I wouldn't think that the Ministry would hire-"

"Oh, of course the  _Ministry_ would never  _dare_ hire anyone who doesn't have a heart of gold and a flawless background full of charities. My mistake, love," Edric told his wife dully before she could finish.

"I never heard of such an incident," Astoria said dismissively, as if if she didn't know about something it meant it didn't happen at all. "And I am decently aware of that community."

"Obviously not as aware as you seem to think. Perhaps it is time for you to reevaluate your supposed knowledge, as being egotistical leads to error. You aren't good at everything, and you don't know everything either."

"She is and does in her world," Daphne snorted, smirking mockingly when Astoria puffed up slightly in offense.

"I certainly know more than both of  _you_ , the disgraces of the family, yet somehow I still find myself being the one who is lectured on how to act," she quipped, smoothing her hands over her lap, attempting to fix her expression into an unbothered one. "I agree the silly woman is mad seeing as she threatened  _me_."

"Who would ever dream of doing such a thing," Adrian said gravely, shaking his head slowly.

"While your words may be intended to be taken as sarcasm, yes, who  _would_ ever dream of doing such a thing?" Astoria confirmed seriously, though looking up at Draco with a bit of lightheartedness in her eyes for a moment before looking towards Nott when he began speaking.

"She didn't kill her parents," Nott said, his eyes still trained on Edric as he twisted the ends of his wand between his fingers. "It was set up to appear that way. You should be familiar with concept of  _framing_ someone, yes?"

Edric gave him an amused, doubtful expression. "If you believe her and her tales then you're even more foolish than I previously perceived, and that was quite foolish if you were curious. Knowing you from an infant I can't say that you have surpassed any of my low expectations on what you might bring to your family name."

"I suppose that's better than not reaching expectations at all, or really going the opposite direction from them for that matter," Theodore replied lazily. "Or even failing at  _keeping_ the family name."

"Edric, please let him be," Ophelia sighed, resting her forehead against her fingertips as her elbows rested on her knees. "The bickering is counterproductive, as well as making me anxious."

"A mad, murderous woman that knowingly brought my wife into such a negative situation remaining in the same environment as us is making me  _anxious_."

"Plenty of things make you anxious, Edric, and I don't believe that to be a very prominent concern for the time being."

"Please, do go on about my supposed anxieties that curiously seem to often relate to you. I am quite intrigued to hear about them."

"Perhaps she could be dangerous if that is true.." Daphne said, interrupting their squabble as she frowned at the floor, considering the idea. "She seems quite ill fitting to this whole scenario, and has only been a negative impact. She is  _inside_ the wards which would make sense for Malfoy's wards to have not been properly set off."

"Nott. Where is your girlfriend now," Draco said slowly, narrowing his eyes as he considered Daphne's words, sitting up even straighter.  
"You couldn't possibly believe that woman is any sort of threat," Astoria muttered, looking up at the ceiling impatiently. "No need to give her even a shred of credit beyond being an irritating pest."

"Quiet, Astoria," Draco told her shortly, looking at Nott expectantly and attempting to ignore the small fragment of a suspicion that led him to believe Astoria to be jealous of the girl due to Nott's show of favoring her.

"She's harmless, Malfoy. Didn't know you were low enough to take advice from a blood traitor of our own circle, no matter how much you despise me."

"Seeing as no one has heard of the girl but  _him_ , and seeing as he was raised in a family who makes it their focus in life to make everyone's business their own, as well as seeing you seem to fancy the twit I don't see who else's advice I should be inclined to follow."

"No idea where she is. I'm not her keeper."

"Come off it, Nott. You're sharing a room with the bitch. Go get her. Whistle for her even," Pucey said, waving a hand impatiently.

"Wait! Yes, she is the one who slit her parents' wrists," Astoria chimed, nodding. "Yes, I do faintly remember that."

"Imagine that. It seems I'm correct," Edric told Astoria who narrowed her eyes ever so slightly while still not meeting his gaze, apparently set on the idea that she was ignoring him even though she had already somewhat interacted with him, which Draco would allow seeing as he himself was interacting with him.

Not that he could see himself punishing her for interacting with him either way. There were some matters he didn't see it his place to intrude much on unless their reputation was fiercely being threatened, and with everything considered they were already treading several dangerous waters in terms of risky behavior when it came to being exposed and dropping down the latter. Actually, he couldn't see himself punishing her much at all really. He had let her get away with so much even at the beginning of their marriage, and now his love for her even more so blinded him to the subject of keeping her in check or reminding her of her supposed place.

Draco stunned himself at his own thoughts, his eyes becoming unfocused from the scene in the room as he stilled, going over his last thought again.

His  _love_ for her.

So he was thinking himself in love with her now, was he?

Draco looked down at Astoria's small body next to him, their legs touching as she now traced patterns into his thigh with her forefinger, discreetly distracting herself as she still held her formal and appropriate posture, not noticing his change in demeanor as she listened to the others speaking, unaware of his sudden shock at his apparent strong feelings for her.

It was unfortunate for him seeing that he doubted she returned his love, but yes. He did believe himself in love with her. He had all the reason to with how much he now knew about her and her past, had been directly inside her head so many times, and all the while growing even softer towards her than the start. She was the perfect wife for him, not only in terms of social standards, but in every sense when it came to working well with his personality. She was simplistic and quiet on the surface to where she didn't turn him off by being obnoxious or irritating, but had depth to her that made her not at all simple to where she bored him or became comparable to other girls. It was hard to believe he had once seen her as a replica of any other decently behaved pure-blood girl. He had attempted to resent her in the beginning, immediately at their marriage confirmation, watching her so stiff and mournful as she finished filling out the papers and rode home with him, the way she had come to him so timidly and fearful when he hadn't sent for her to sleep with him to confirm their marriage. Pliant and eager to please, nothing special, something he had always knew he would receive in a woman. Seeing her in such a way was foreign to him now, and he wasn't able to connect to that mindset at all anymore. He didn't understand how he had been so cold and dismissive towards a girl who had done nothing wrong to him and had been so determined to please him. It would have taken so little effort on his part to simply put the smallest amount of energy into calming her in any way at all those first nights, any shred of kindness or warmth would have been merciful.

Instead he was stubborn and shut off, had abused her of all things. Of all the things that he hated most looking back on his life was the abuse his mother had suffered at the temper of his father, and it was his father who had set him in his own temper to go home and viciously harm Astoria, sweet Astoria who only pleaded with him and apologized, her delicate hands stupidly gentle on top of his as he had crushed her throat in his fist, never fighting or harming him. Not even a scratch or a dig from her nails. Then of course she had wanted to heal him after his strong and hypocritical reaction, just as he had been hypocritical being so angry with her for being so set on pleasing her father. Hadn't he lived for his father just the same? And that was with Lucius lacking the manipulation and conniving talents that Aldrich Greengrass possessed. Not that his father wasn't intimidating in his own right, but he was much more transparent than his father-in-law. He had no right to treat her so poorly for the habits he had similar of, and the habits he expected from his  _own_ children. Surely he would want his children, the child inside Astoria now, to be as fiercely loyal as Astoria was, would he not?

He should have given up on attempting to avoid having such a strong attachment to the girl the moment he wanted her to sleep in his bed with him the night he had taken her innocence, the second he had woken from a real night of sleep next to her frustratingly angelic face. The face that made him disgusted at the idea of bringing pain to it.

No, that weren't completely true. Under the correct circumstances he quite enjoyed her writhing in pain beneath his mercy, that face beautifully painted in her torment before her sweet gratitude replaced it, her big eyes the most expressive in their thanks, feeding the more sadistic side of him perfectly.

But she wasn't an angel whatsoever, that had only been proven further as time went on, the innocence she wore on her features a lie. She was flawed and had nasty bits about her as well as her own demons that only made the sweet and delicate parts of her more pronounced, only made her so much more favorable to him. She was not nearly as boring as she portrayed herself or made herself believe. He had been turned off by her at the notion she was dull, shallow. If she were boring and lacked depth, what was he next to her? He lived for nothing before her, was drained by and finished with their world that sucked the life out of them all, and now he only wished to live for her, to protect her from all of her fears and anything or anyone that may harm her, any part of her. She was becoming quite aware of this as well, as she had been acknowledging it more and more verbally as well as noticeably taking advantage of it, gracing him ever so slightly with her manipulation talents. It was obvious she was aware of her advantages period, seeing as how she had gotten the upper hand in the small fight with her sister by playing on her fragile features, taking opportunity from the sympathy people could easily award her, taking opportunity from how people underestimated her.

His clever little snake.

Though she was still honest with him, surprisingly enough considering her upbringing of secrets and deceptions, and seemed to hold no maliciousness when taking hold of his weakness towards her. She only drew out his affections to feed her desire for them in her search for contentment, a life purpose, and for that he couldn't fault her or attempt to change her actions. He didn't want to change her anymore. She had been altered enough, and he only wanted her to continue to feel comfortable enough to show pieces of her stubborn and fiery personality that had been buried deep within her for too long.

Draco was rudely yanked from his rambling thoughts and realizations when a small, shocked yelp was heard from his sister-in-law. He felt Astoria's frozen body beside him, feeling her intense fear rise and he quickly made a go at his wand while his free hand reached for the first piece of his wife he could touch as his vision began to blur and darken just as he was taking in Astoria's frantic and searching eyes, appearing unable to see herself while his senses dulled just as he pushed his energy towards his legs to lift him up. He fully panicked when he found himself unable to stand, his body heavy and unresponsive just before his vision fell into complete blindness, barely comprehending the feeling of his wife's body slumping against his own beside him as the loud sounds around the two of them also sounding their own alarm faded and everything went blank.

* * *

Adrian felt himself grimace as he pulled himself out of the thick fog over his senses, struggling to figure out how to make them all function properly.

There was a reason he preferred muggle drugs over their own brewed versions.

He groaned, reaching for his face to rub his hands over it only to realize himself bound, uncomfortably so. He stilled, his stomach sinking into the floor as he blinked wildly in attempt to get his vision together, only barely making out shapes in the dark space as he remembered the scene he had just previously been in and it was most certainly not his usual circumstances in which he passed out from intoxication. The violent and deafening hum of his sudden panic was clearing the haze of the potion that had handicapped him, and in that moment he didn't care where he was, who had done this, or what they had done to him. He only cared about his wife, where she was, and if she were alright. He didn't call out her name as his voice was stuck in his throat as every possible, horrible conclusion was flooding his head all at once, images of her being hurt and violated in every disgusting manner he had learned humans capable of turning his blood cold. He found the dark wizards that surrounded his wife as she grew up cruel and disgusting at best, and her sister's display of dark magic had angered him, but dark wizards and witches came in many shapes and sizes, and the  _civilized_ and  _classy_ pure-bloods were nothing compared to the savageness that magic folk had the capability of possessing and that many did possess.

His eyes began to focus on the forms beside him as his mind screamed at his senses to come back to attention, the bile rising in his throat halting as he was relieved to find Daphne right beside him. Unconscious, but right beside him where she belonged, where he needed her.

He assessed her as carefully as he could in the light provided by the weak torch on the wall to the left of him, attempting to move forward enough to touch her only to find them bound in such a way that they were only just out of reach of each other, almost mockingly so.

The sons of bitches.

He grit his teeth, swallowing the thick lump of dread rising in his throat as he struggled to make out the rest of the room, noticing Zabini there as well even though he had not been with them downstairs. Thankfully his mother had went along with his father and the rest of them, squawking about how she wouldn't cower with the children while the rest of them were acting as parents, though Adrian knew his mother didn't want Rhys to be separated from her. If he were in danger she would want to be in danger with him, refusing to be split up only to never see him again.

Though apparently those who had remained in the Manor had been the ones in danger.

Astoria was within reach of her sister and he noticed the women bound considerably less carefully, their arms not pulled behind their backs like the rest of them. What a shock there. At least Daphne would be able to have access to physical contact with  _someone_. Draco was even further from Astoria, and Nott was closer to Edric, Edric's wife missing, his wife being the only one aside from the Eld woman missing if he was sorting everyone out correctly under the fog still clearing from his head.

Fuck.

Well, they would be short  _one_ level-headed wizard when everyone was conscious, and seeing as Greengrass was more promising than Malfoy, Nott, or Zabini in terms of having any decent ideas on how to get them out of this predicament he was inclined to assume they were screwed, especially so seeing as it was blatantly obvious why Ophelia was the only one missing.

He looked back down at his wife, observing her hair that was falling in a mess over her gorgeous face as she must have been roughly bound up on the ground by their captors while he shivered slightly as the ideas of what they would do to the muggle-born skipped through his head. He could recall several stories of different violent and twisted, almost always heavily perverted stories on what dark and malicious wizards would do to muggle-born women, as well as any woman they saw fit to abuse, but particularly the most vile stories involved the muggle-borns. He narrowed his eyes at how disheveled Daphne's clothing was, her dress hiked up to her waist enough to where the curve of her arse was revealed, the front of her dress that was meant to cover her chest twisted to the side of her, the seams and design of the dress not at all lining up where they were meant to line up in a way that would take more fussing with to cause than only carelessly binding her ankles and wrists to attach to the chains that led to a base in the ground.

If they had so much as  _groped_ his wife.

Adrian tasted the blood that went down his sore throat after biting into his cheek as his vision went slightly red, running his tongue along the wound as he forced himself to keep a hold of his temper. As he had already mentally noted, they would already be short a level-headed member of the group once Greengrass woke up to find his muggle-born wife missing while they were at the mercy of Death Eaters. Daphne was beside him and appeared unharmed aside from a few scrapes from being being dragged about on the cold stone as she was having herself secured into her bindings, and from what he could tell, what he had to force himself to believe, she hadn't been raped. He had to keep that in mind. It could be worse. They could have taken all of the women away and taken advantage of, in their eyes, free and very valuable pussy. Seeing as though they had a very personal vendetta against them specifically, they had all the more reason to do so and taunt them with it. Violating their women would be the ultimate blow, especially to the ancients in a social sense. Adrian had the strange urge to almost  _whimper_ in his desperation to hold Daphne, the urge only growing more and more as the possibilities of their fate pounded at his head and nerves, needing to feel her safe in his grasp even though at the moment he was about as capable of protecting her as the bloody rock on the ground nearby.

Instead of quickly trying to come up with a solution or looking for routes and possibilities of exits, Adrian only found himself staring at his wife as his pulse sounded loudly in his ears until the sounds of the other men cursing as they awoke from their unconsciousness in their uncomfortable state broke his focus.

"Didn't take long," Adrian told Zabini and Nott, his tone hollow which was mismatched to his lighthearted statement. "Knew you two got into some frowned upon activities more than Malfoy."

"What the  _fuck_ ," Zabini snarled loudly, jerking his wrists against the chains that locked his arms behind his back. " _All_ of you together couldn't figure out how to avoid this? Are you fucking joking? And you were supposedly a Death Eater, Nott?"

"You are in no position to be complaining about our lack of success when you were pouting in your room the entire time,  _Zabini_ ," Nott snorted, looking down to assess the state of himself carefully as he adjusted his position while grimacing in discomfort, the calmest of the three of them.

"Your girlfriend is missing, Nott," Adrian told him, narrowing his eyes. "Wonder why that could be."

"So I am noticing," Nott said, glancing around. "Don't understand how she is  _my_ responsibility. She is not my wife nor is she even as much as my girlfriend. Hell, we aren't even fucking."

"Because she was in  _your_ room while arranging our captures."

Nott rolled his eyes, the prick, shaking his head. "A reaching assumption simply due to the fact she isn't present, especially seeing as-"

"Due to many facts actually."

"-she is not the only woman missing."

"The only other woman missing is the mudblood. It should be obvious why she isn't here. We are here to be set up as the next murderers of this sort of enslaved pure-blood soldier uprising bullshit. She doesn't fit into our adorable little group. Not quite sure why you and Malfoy are here either. Don't fit into the narrative they're attempting to push, seeing as both of you were Death Eaters."

"And do we know who  _they_ is yet," Zabini grit out, still fussing with his bound arms.

"Right, well obviously the mudblood has been gang raped and passed around the lot of them by now, perhaps by their dogs as well should they have them, which I suppose is the consequence of sporting a name that is falsely yours. Highly doubtful she is still alive if they are finished being entertained by her. Seems the wreckage brought to your wife's family as well as Astoria's torture was all for nothing, not that it was for anything adequate in the first place, but now it was surely for nothing."

Adrian winced at his words of what they may do to the girl and the hideous scene they painted in his head, turning his face away in his aversion to the subject.

"What, Pucey? Not a topic you fancy? I'm capable of paying attention to rumors as well, you realize. Did you really abandon that poor girl to be raped by your lot of friends? No wonder her story ended the way it did. They still your friends? Or were you too preoccupied with yourself and your carefree lifestyle to pay attention to who they were?"

"I've heard you described as charming, such a  _gentleman_ , but yet all you seem to be is this piece of shit who brings nothing but bullshit to people's lives, including the ones you claim to care about."

"Ah, so no. You  _didn't_  care enough to pay attention to who they were," Nott tsked, watching him with pity. "Or worse. They are _still_ your friends, that it? Now, Pucey. You aren't that much of an idiot. You knew full well what was likely to happen, yet you left her intoxicated and defenseless anyway. My, and you call me a fucking arsehole."

Both of them were distracted by their go at each other when Zabini violently thrashed around in a sort of fit in his frustrations of being imprisoned and unable to move, his eyes wild when he finally stilled from his loud scene, looking between both of them. "Do you two not fucking realize," he said slowly, his voice shaky in his fury and discomfort. "That we have been  _captured_ by people whose identities remain unknown,  _bound_ to the point we can barely move a few inches, and  _locked away_ in an unknown location where no one knows where we have gone and no one will be able to find us on time to avoid whatever pleasant activities that our captors have planned for us? Hmm? Do you realize this? If not then I just fucking spelt it out for you. So if you two would kindly stop your juvenile arguing for just a moment and consider how exactly we plan on surviving this, that would be  _lovely_."

"The bondage kink is not for you, Zabini, just a bit of advice when choosing your future partner," Adrian said blandly, looking back down at Daphne in concern, more guilt and shame filling him as Zabini's words reminded him again that he had zero idea on how to get her out of there.

Adrian glanced up towards the source of the strangled sound across from him and found Greengrass sitting up, his eyes scanning the room back and forth helplessly before falling onto a point in front of him, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically as his breathing was labored in his despairing.

"Nott. Keep your kind and sensitive comments to yourself," Adrian ordered quietly, hoping that even Nott would find the least bit of sympathy for a man in such a circumstance, no matter who his spouse. Whatever Nott had to say on the matter Adrian was sure Edric had thought up on his own and worse, but still confirmation of the likelihood of all that could happen to the girl was not at all helpful, and they needed him to be at least somewhat composed to be of use. He realized the best course of action in calming the man down would be to let him alone to calm himself down, as it seemed Adrian's strengths were in comforting women, not to mention that Greengrass was not particularly fond of him. Aside from that he really wasn't sure there was anything comforting to be said at all. He had little belief that the man's wife would come out of this alive and if she did she would be close to death either physically or in her spirit.

His attention was immediately drawn away from the couple when Daphne stirred, a soft sound of pain coming from her lips as she struggled to open her eyes. Adrian jerked against the chains as he impulsively went to reach for her, the cruel desperation of needing her to be pressed against him making his whole body stiff and uncomfortable, so much to the point it was physically painful and created an incredible pressure against his chest as he felt trapped even more so then seeing her realize their state.

He stopped himself before speaking too quickly in order to control his tone, not wanting to overwhelm her or worsen her reaction. He was the husband. He was the one meant to keep it together and stay calm. He winced when she let out a shuddering breath in discomfort, her eyes filling with horror and her body freezing when she realized the situation.

"I'm beside you, love. You're fine," he told her gently, swallowing hard in attempt to swallow the frantic and angry edge that threatened to completely coat his tone of voice. "Do you feel alright aside from the potion wearing off? Do you feel anything more than scrapes or some bruising?"

Her head jerked up to look at him and she attempted to crawl forward to him, her arms that were locked in front of her allowing her to get up onto her palms on the ground, before making a sound of surprised protest when she was unable to go further, collapsing as her actions were tripped up by her chained ankle. She stared down at it and her shoulders began to look like her brother's in how they moved, her chest rising and falling dramatically.

"Daphne," he said firmly, fearing she would make herself hyperventilate. "It will be alright, sweetheart. Focus here, yeah? Are you hurt?"

She shook her head roughly, her eyes fighting tears as she looked back to him hesitantly as if she were fearing  _him_ , her green eyes large and more vivid even in the dim light against her reddening eyes. Painful regret went through his chest at the sight of her worried expression that covered the one of immense fear, worried he would be angry and resentful towards her. That was his own doing, making his wife feel responsible for him being captured, as if she had any fucking control over it. She was the one entitled to anger as he was the one meant to be responsible for keeping her safe, and in that he had failed her.

He opened his mouth to reassure her he was not upset at her as her pitiful expression faltered and slightly composed itself as her sister had woken up beside her silently along with her husband who was searching the room with a slightly glazed expression, her eyes brimming with tears as her stiffened body trembled. Daphne moved over to her, thankfully within reach as Adrian had expected, dipping down next to her where she was still mostly laying on the ground, likely still too weak to sit up, though the girls didn't seem as though they were in an easy position to sit up completely with how they were chained anyway. She was murmuring quietly to her fear stricken sister now, the instinct to act as the protective older sibling seeming to force her to gather herself together almost instantly, calming her much more adequately than he had.

"Has there been anyone?" Malfoy's voice was flat and stoic as he spoke, looking down at his wife balled onto the floor next to Adrian's own who was slightly over the top of her, raising herself higher with her arms as she comforted her quietly.

"No. You recognize this.. Dungeon? Popular in your lot, no? Any personal family flair to these wonderful decorations?"

"No," Draco said coolly, his eyes focusing on him as his face moved into a slight sneering expression. "I do not recognize the  _dungeon_ , Pucey."

"Could be fucking anywhere," Zabini spat. "Could be a  _muggle_ location for all we know."

"Quite sure muggles use something called electricity, Zabini. Those are lanterns."

Zabini more blatantly threw him a sneering look than Malfoy had, eyeing him in disgust. "Well excuse me then for not knowing such things to assist me in my observations. Good thing I suppose, was about to mourn the loss of our mudblood to aid us with her abundant knowledge on such matters. Lovely we have you to fill us in."

"Ophelia is gone?" Daphne asked, looking up from her sister and around the enclosed space, her tone almost worried as well as hesitant before she settled her gaze on her brother, watching him carefully, a light amount of sympathy crossing her expression as his previously empty eyes flashed murderously at Zabini's mocking words.

"Now is not the time for all of your wonderfully witty  _banter_ ," Malfoy said through his teeth, his jaw clicking as he closed his eyes impatiently. "Do any of you feel clear headed enough for  _any_ wandless magic, though I sincerely doubt none of you are capable of even the simplest of spells considering."

"We would have to be exceptionally impressive with our magical capabilities to perform anything of real use since I'm quite sure our clever captors would have thought that far seeing as they clearly broke through your  _brilliant_ wards," Adrian said dryly. "Then again it seems they had an inside source to help them in."

"Edric," Daphne said slowly, glancing at Adrian before looking back to her brother cautiously. "I know  _you_  know creative wandless magic. Beyond the obvious spells, spells they wouldn't necessarily expect." She looked at the ground for a moment when he didn't reply, but Adrian could see him falter slightly at his sister addressing him so kindly, a contrast to how she had been previously. "You can't help her if you shut down. She may only just be in a separate cell among many other muggle-borns they have picked up along the way. Don't assume the worst yet."

Greengrass closed his eyes, his posture dipping slightly in a defeated way. He was quiet for several moments before breathing slowly out of his nose. "All of you need to stop speaking of any  _profound_ ideas you have. Assume they are listening to us."

"Then how exactly are we to plan with each other on how we will get out of this?" Nott asked, his tone unimpressed.

Edric said nothing, watching Nott coldly as he was clearly demonstrating what he expected the rest of them to do and Nott snorted, shaking his head. "Solid help you are, truly a waste that you were kicked out of our world."

It was solid, and it also quite obvious that they shouldn't be voicing whatever ideas they may come up with openly in a foreign environment when they had no clue what spells were placed on the room or if their captors were right outside the closed entranced listening to them, perhaps a guard right at the door able to hear through a simple eavesdropping spell. They were left with no choice but to rely on their own ideas to act on themselves, with no organization or run throughs with each other whatsoever, and Adrian most definitely knew nothing on Legilimency to find out what the others were planning.

They were fucked.

Astoria expressed his emotions for him when she whimpered hopelessly, Malfoy closing his eyes himself after flinching considerably hard at the sound while shaking slightly. Adrian couldn't tell if his reaction was was due to anger or anguish, but he was guessing it was a strong amount of both if he was feeling anything like Adrian. Daphne adjusted herself carefully to loop her connected arms over the top of her sister's head so she could hold her against her as she struggled to control her own tears that had pooled in her eyes, Astoria softly crying as soon as her face was safely pressed into Daphne's chest to muffle the sounds.

No, they were  _royally_ fucked.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains disturbing nonconsensual scenes.

"Now, now. Don't be a tease, pet," Adrian Pucey, seventeen, chided the uncertain looking girl in front of him before drawing her to him by her wrist, kissing her knuckles.

"Sorry," the girl told him, smiling apologetically and inhaling deeply when his lips touched her skin, her large eyes giving away how taken she is was with him. "It's.. A lot in here."

She nodded, agreeing with her own words while looking around and appearing overwhelmed at the dark, crowded party. She bit at her lip nervously when her eyes fell on a man who had his woman pressed against a wall with her dress shamelessly pushed up to her ribcage as his hand disappeared between their closely drawn hips.

Adrian rolled his eyes impatiently at her modesty, too high and too eager to stick his cock into something pretty to be sympathetic or considerate of the bitch's feelings. He definitely should have invited her to a party during the  _day_ , as he would be much more patient and a bit more morally sound, even a bit  _guilty_  about using a girl who was delusional enough to find herself infatuated with him as if she had any chance at his attentions once she gave him what he wanted. She was a sweet girl, nothing against her personally, but he was already bored.

And he was  _young_ for fuck's sake. He could spend time giving a damn about sentimental shit when he was middle-aged and his dick didn't work as well anymore.

He plastered an amused and charming look on his face when she, Dana, looked back to him and allowed him to guide her down into his lap on the couch. He fought the borderline cruel smirk fought to replace the set of his face when she adjusted herself from the more innocent way he had placed her with her legs across his to hesitantly straddle him.

They always gave more when they thought the man a gentleman.

"It's a lot," he confirmed, sliding his hands up her thighs slowly, appreciating the fullness of them. "But you wouldn't notice if you weren't painfully sober."

"I had a couple drinks," she insisted, averting her gaze while smiling sheepishly. "I can't get  _too_ drunk to where I can't see straight. I don't know how  _you_  are still seeing properly. I don't know how many shots I saw you take, I lost count."

"As did I, beautiful," he chuckled, realizing he shouldn't push her into getting so stupidly drunk to where he would be crossing the line into true piece of shit territory to try and fuck her.

"I'm not as boring as I'm being, honest. I'm just nervous. Well, boring next to you of course, but I'm pretty sure anyone would be," she said, her eyes glittering as she warmed up to their position and became less distracted by the loud and dark surroundings, resting her arms on his shoulders.

"I will have to humbly agree," he replied, dropping his voice lower into a near purr as she hovered her face down over his in a way of invitation, her light brown hair falling to the sides of her face as he sat up slightly to capture her mouth with his.

The girl promptly arched her back beneath his hand as it slid from her thigh and up her back until it reached the back of her neck, holding her in place so he could kiss her more to his own liking without her shying away at his firmness. He placed his other hand on the small of her back just as he drew her full lower lip that helped create the attractive pout she wore into his mouth, taking the opportunity from her distracted intake of breath to grind her down by slightly moving his hand from her back to her hip, raising his own hips to meet the motion roughly. He felt her shuddering breath as well as faintly heard it as her tenseness became non-existent as he dizzied her and distracted her from their surroundings, the full weight of her body covering his now that she had allowed it to relax.

It was so stupidly easy to steal a girl's shame.

The more innocent girls were fun for the right mood, so responsive in their adorable, near pathetic ways. So pliant in their inexperience, so amusing in their reactions. It was almost degrading, playing and toying with them just to be entertained by their responses, nearly humiliating them in making a show of how extremely little they knew. If Adrian were in the right mood and felt like taking his time he would toy with her much more, drawing out every sound and jerk of her body as she knew nothing of what to expect, every feeling unpredictable to her. He hoped she wasn't a virgin, though she certainly hadn't been with anyone worth noting in their capabilities of screwing properly judging by her mannerisms and the timidness of her.

He didn't have time for that.

She was already making him work for it, which he enjoyed occasionally, but at the moment he did not. Did she not realize that he had at least sixty other women just at his home alone right at that moment that would be willing to fuck him without any effort on his part? Well, yes, he supposed she did judging by how insecure she was acting particularly when looking at the other women present that nearly surpassed her in every aspect. She had no reason to be insecure as it was clear he intended on sleeping with her that night unless of course she thought she could keep his interests beyond that point.

Cute.

He heard his mother's language coming from a group of males lingering close to them, inwardly groaning when they addressed him just as he had gotten the girl to the point of heavy breathing and a near rhythm of a natural rocking of her hips in the few minutes he had been warming her up. He did not award himself  _that_ much credit in his abilities to turn a woman on to believe he could turn a prude into a shameless slut that would stay in his lap and continue her attentions in front of other men, and she would immediately be switched off as soon as she noticed their presence. Perhaps if he ignored them they would move along and she would not be phased by the close, foreign voices.

Wrong.

He released her from his grip when she pulled back, allowing her to slip herself off and to the side of him while fixing her dress in embarrassment, crossing her legs quickly in a rather telling way that her body had certainly been warming up to him in the way that he had intended it to. He patted her knee, chuckling quietly. "No worries, pet. I promise they won't be telling anyone anything of your activities with me," he told her, regarding the Ukrainian wizards with a sarcastic enthusiastic reaction.

He really didn't care for them, but they were friends of his family and their allyship was important. Their families and a few others from his mother's side of connections came along with her and were a large reason she was married to his father. The woman's friends were nearly as important as the woman when choosing a bride. It seemed they were playing nicely, however, as Adrian reluctantly spoke with them cheerfully as he was meant to as the host.

Always cheerful, always full of energy, always charming for the guests and cameras. It was the Pucey way, and it was exhausting as fuck, which was exactly why he deserved his high and the shag that  _typically_ came along with it.

A thick curtain of red hair fanned over his shoulder and over his chest as Tasya Endrin slipped in-between him and Dana over the back of the couch to touch her lips to his ear, her hands sliding over his shoulders to rub them slowly.

"Come have a chat with me, yes? It's important," she murmured, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear and he could feel the suggestive smile on them.

"Is it really important? Just have this feeling you're being dishonest, Endrin," Adrian replied, turning his head to look at her with raised eyebrows.

"Everything I have to say is important," she told him, cocking an eyebrow and standing up straight. "Make time for me."

Adrian avoided a smirk as he put on a reluctant face instead for Dana who was looking back at Tasya as she walked away with a look of insecurity before glancing at him and then away from him, seemingly embarrassed and angry, at him or herself he wasn't sure.

"Forgive me, beautiful. She's a family friend, be back in a moment, alright? I'll just be over there," he told her, the form of her blurring and glowing a bit as the effects of the potion he just tossed back took effect.

Her mouth opened as he stood, looking up at him in protest before looking at the other large and intimidating men worriedly, grabbing onto his hand gently in her silent request for him to stay. Her actions were almost sweet enough to sit back down with her, or better yet help her up with him and go somewhere quieter. He had paid enough attention to the men that it was acceptable for him to leave. Perhaps if he was only the smallest bit more clear headed, and his vision weren't doubling slightly he wouldn't have kissed the palm of her hand in reassurance that he would be right back before leaving her in order to weave through the guests to find his redheaded female.

But he wasn't more clear headed, unfortunately for the poor girl.

Unsurprisingly Tasya had no interest in telling him anything of importance as she so claimed, immediately pressing herself close to him and skimming her mouth up his throat, dragging her nails down his arms.

"What was that important thing you had to tell me exactly?"

Adrian wasn't sure why Tasya always made a point to regularly pursue him seeing as it was quite clear that it was her who would most likely be the next Mrs. Pucey, though he supposed it was her way of reminding everyone of the fact. Reclaiming him, flaunting him to the other girls.

Her trophy.

"Ditch the mouse, Adrian," she told him, untucking his shirt to move her hands underneath so she could slide them up his bare skin. "She isn't worth your efforts, and I've seen you put in quite a bit tonight just for a mediocre shag."

"Jealousy? Is that you? You're lucky green compliments redheads," he told her. "Haven't you heard that men like a good challenge?"

"You and I both know I'm not jealous," she laughed, looking up at him with amused eyes. "Nearly insulted actually. My future husband should put his energy into bedding far more worthwhile women. She is hardly a challenge, a chore would be the appropriate word really."

"Since I've put no effort into bedding you and yet I have bedded you multiple times due to you throwing yourself at me does that mean you aren't a woman who is worthwhile?"

"I'm worth everything," she purred, unbothered by his mocking. "Don't try to wind me up, you'll have to bring in a more threatening bitch for that. Not that anyone would ever threaten my claim to what's mine, but it would be adorable for you to give it an honest try."

"That cockiness may bite you in the arse one day, Endrin."

" _You_ could be biting me in the arse if you would follow my advice."

"Tempting, but shouldn't leave the poor and defenseless girl with the Ukrainians. Even I'm not that much of a dick," he told her as he felt the wetness of her tongue against his neck as she sucked at the skin there and he inhaled, truly tempted as he had claimed.

"She isn't even drunk. She'll be fine. She can show herself out or find another man to be a cock tease to."

"You can bet she'll be worse than drunk if she sits around them for too long," he told her, his senses coming back a small amount as he scanned the room in the direction he had came, attempting to spot the girl. "Even cock teases don't deserve to be thrown to dogs."

His head head was turned forward by his chin as Tasya kissed his open mouth, pushing the small tablet from her tongue into it before pulling back and grabbing the nearest drink from a nearby table and tipping it against his lips, pouring the strong and burning alcohol down his throat along with what she had slipped him.

" _Drugging_ me now, are we?" He asked her, preparing for his thoughts to become even more unclear as he was being pushed past his limit of being able to still act accordingly and pass as an adequately behaved host.

"They do when it's such a quality cock they're teasing," he heard her say as he closed his eyes to his head rush, humming his approval when her hand came down to rub itself against the victim of teasing she was referring to.

"You think flattery will get you what you want?" He nearly breathed the last words as her probing hands became even more persuasive and he caught her wrist in his hand. "Now you're just playing dirty, Endrin. Practically sexual assault happening here."

"Flattery gets me everywhere," she answered, smirking at him as she used her free hand to hook her fingers into the front of his pants and tug him closer before pushing her way down between the fabric and his skin, coaxing him without any barrier now. "And how does anyone get anywhere  _without_ fighting dirty?"

Her face dropped into a needy, hungry expression when he moved his other hand to reluctantly go for her other wrist though his efforts were already halfhearted at that point in that he couldn't remember exactly why he was resisting.

"Adrian,  _please_ ," she half moaned, whining the words, only barely missing the mark of her tone of voice being irritating. "You can come back to the girl when we are finished."

He allowed her to drag him down by the collar of his shirt to roughly kiss him, a possessiveness about her as she seemed to drink him in, her voice growing resonant in his ears as the blaring sounds of the event began to fall away. "After you've fucked me. I  _need you_ to fuck me."

Yes the girl, that was it.

Not his responsibility, not his problem. No reason to decline, though he doubted he could at that point. It was too good, much too good, and his body simply would not obey should he tell it to pull away. Oh well, like Tasya had pointed out, he could return to her when he gained the satisfaction that the shy girl had been taking too long to give him. He moved his arms around Tasya now, his hands dragging and caressing the bits of her as he gathered her flush against him and dipped his head kiss her neck, enjoying the way their skin seemed to mold together as the blissful blanket of false peace he had become so reliant on swept over him, a peace he was not able to find sober.

"I suppose you'll have to earn it then," he said against her skin as he ran his lips over it, savoring the velvety feel of it while aided by his heightened sense.

His voice was dark in its teasing while his hand pushed up her dress to move between her thighs and cup what was his due to her own insisting, taking a sense of power and satisfaction in the way she immediately rocked herself forward to stimulate herself against his hand instinctively before apparating them to his bedroom where he knocked her back against one of the bedposts hard enough to extract a sharp sound of pain from her. "Don't think you'll be returning as quickly as I will be unless you want to sport mascara and spit dripping off your mess of a face, pet, unless of course you've fixed that frequent gagging habit of yours."

Adrian placed his hand on her head and coaxed her down to the ground, keeping her as backed up against the post as he could manage so she wouldn't be able to jerk her head too far back when choking on him. He was unaware of the girl who had watched him with Tasya, wounded and humiliated enough to finally except what the five dangerous men with ill intentions were coercing her to take in her insecurity of being boring, and insecurity that was now heightened many times over due to the scenario she had found herself in in that moment.

Unaware of what happened to the girl soon after she had taken their bait.

* * *

Draco tensely watched Astoria attempt to reposition herself in her discomfort, the chains that led to both of the girls' wrists too short for them to sit up all of the way, forcing them to lie down or prop themselves up halfway. He wasn't sure what their captors had been playing at, but he suspected it was simply to be degrading and malicious by making the men watch the women squirm about on the ground, as close as the ground as possible to imply where their captors felt the girls "belonged". The dark magic that he had placed on Astoria through her markings was not set off, so he could at least find a bit of comfort that no one with disgusting intent had touched her. He could prevent the magic from harming her should he be forced to, wand or not.

He shuddered at the thought, making himself believe he wouldn't have to face a reason to do that, to have a reason to aid her from less pain while being touched by another man who only wished her harm. He moved his eyes over their surroundings again, attempting to find anything that may give away their location. He doubted it would help much, they were imprisoned no matter who had taken them, but perhaps knowing their captors would better help him choose a route in which to escape. Not that he had even one idea of any route to take as of that moment, but he had no choice but to come up with one. He would not sit and do nothing while his pregnant wife was harmed in any way, not like his father had, and not like he himself had.

He would not fail his family again.

"Hold on, hold on," Blaise said, shaking his head as he squinted towards the cuffs around the girls' wrists. "Look there. See if they are marked."

"I already looked," Astoria murmured, turning her body anyway, moving until her ankle caught behind her, lifting her wrists close to her eyes as she strained them to get a look at the metal in the dim lighting. "I don't see anything."

"Look on the underside," Adrian urged her, leaning forward to focus his eyes more on her wrists as though leaning forward would aid him whatsoever in being able to see anything. "Pure-bloods have to write their name on all of their shit. We can't seem to help ourselves."

"I can't," she replied, wincing as she tried to rotate her wrist a bit in the cuff. "They are too tight."

"Her wrists are already going raw," Daphne confirmed, propping herself up better. "Help me, Tori, hold onto mine while I try to see my own."

"Raw?" Draco asked flatly, breathing unevenly in his surge of anger at the thought of the bastards intentionally making his wife's too tight simply to be extra cruel, straining himself as Pucey did, attempting to see any damage on her porcelain skin.

"It's not awful, Draco, it's nothing," Astoria told him, her tone reassuring though he still did not believe her despite how sincere she sounded.

Daphne dropped to her elbows as she put her face close to the cuffs, twisting her wrist and moving it to peer between the skin and the metal. "If I were as skinny as I was as a Greengrass I would be able to see," she grumbled.

"Terribly sorry that the Pucey family upholds the value of not starving ourselves," Pucey told his wife dully, his concerned gaze not faltering from her efforts.

"I do.. See something. Looks as though it has rubbed off," she murmured, pushing her face even closer, hissing softly when she forced her wrist in an even more unnatural position. "I can only make out the first letter 'E'.. Perhaps an 'N' or an 'R' as the second.. A couple letters I can't make out.. 'E' again? Or 'O'.. 'T'? 'R?' I'm not sure what that one is."

"Treacle," Adrian said, grimacing at her. "Say it a bit more clearly. Take your best guess."

She looked up to glare at him before looking back down for a while. "'E' 'N'," she started. "'E' and 'R'. With letters in-between that are too worn."

"Starts with an 'E?'" Nott asked, looking up at the ceiling as he thought. "How many letters would you estimate?"

"Ah.. I would say at least more than five.. There are a few bits after the ones I can make out.. What I think is the last letter has a straight vertical line."

"Could be fucking anyone," Pucey sighed, shaking his head tiredly. "Probably not anyone we know. Weren't they chasing a foreign trail last time we heard?"

"Astoria? Any ideas? It's your mission in life to study every single pure-blood family, no?" Draco asked her, watching her eyebrows come together in thought before looking to Edric, finding him shaking his head slowly, a manic smile creeping over his face that was covered in disbelief.

"You know it?" Draco asked, watching him intently, excitement and impatience pricking at him.

Edric coughed out a laugh, his eyes searching in front of him as he began to chuckle in a slow burning, mad fury. "'Wreak havoc on his life'," he quoted in an amused tone before shaking his head again his eyes flashing as he chuckled on. "'Why have good intentions?' Ah, the worthless, classless little cunt."

"What," Blaise said flatly. "What is he on about? Perhaps the muggles have really crushed his sanity."

"Which classless cunt? I could name a few," Pucey pressed, leaning forward even more as he watched him expectantly.

"Enderson," Edric finally said softly after sucking his teeth, his upper lip twitching slightly as if wanting to curl and he shook his head once more and tipped it back. "What a fucking idiot I am, allowing Ophelia to keep such a-"

"The Endersons," Astoria said flatly in her doubt. "And how do you gather? I don't think you're correct."

"No I think," Daphne started slowly, looking at the cuff again, her pretty features pulled into a frown in her moment of dawning. "I think actually he may be right.. The name fits. I saw her not too long ago at our house. She reacted bitterly when I mentioned the fall of her family at father's doing, and then she called Charlotte Blythe over to start something with me. I always thought she just found entertainment in petty drama, but-"

"Charlotte Blythe," Astoria snorted, laughing dismissively. "The delusion she must have to think she could rival-"

"I gather," Edric answered Astoria coolly, seemingly fighting himself to stay patient and kinder to his younger sister while he handled his temper. "Because the woman has been in and out of my home for nine fucking years, best friends with my wife, the  _only_ muggle-born she has  _ever_ associated herself with, the one who relentlessly encouraged her to pursue me and destroy my family, the one who always seeks to stir up as much trouble as she possibly can manage amongst the pure-bloods, maliciously- hold on. She went to Pucey's house? Spoke to you? Brought my previously betrothed over?" Edric paused as he considered this before smiling and continuing pleasantly. "Beautiful. Just lovely, really. I'm going to end her life and ensure she is screaming throughout the entire process."

"Yes, that's right! I remember them together. Enderson and.. Ophelia." Daphne hesitated before awarding the woman an actual name instead of the slur. "At the Ministry's Christmas event. She called mother over, then Astoria."

"Mmm. That she did, the conniving whore," Edric replied humorously as he stared without focus, a mad glint to his eye.

"I'm only faintly aware of who you're talking about, but a  _woman_ having it out for your family due to the fact your father ruined her family's life doesn't explain said woman going out and framing our entire community for continuing the Dark Lord's work," Draco said, watching them as he tried to think of the few times he had come across the Enderson family aside from the Ministry events his father had attended.

"Yes it does," Pucey said, nodding as his eyes moved around as he thought over everything himself. "They embrace being named blood traitors, their daughter latches onto one to 'prove' they aren't prejudiced. Don't think he's saying that the sole purpose of all of this is to get back at his family, but motive for them to have something out for the community."

"Obviously the Enderson family isn't the only family behind this, just as Malfoy Manor was used as a base for the Death Eaters this is likely just where they are keeping themselves at the moment. They were quite relevant before they fell, as were many of the families they now associate themselves with. The pure-bloods who gain nothing from their purity anymore and are forced to act as though they are not prejudiced as the other pure-bloods who get away with it are just so they can be accepted by the other side as they are no longer accepted by the former, and still constantly have to prove themselves to them if they want to maintain any sort of social status in any community at all. I'd imagine the Enderson family and those similar became exceptionally angry when after the second war the pure-blood circle remained intact despite who the victors of the war were. I'll have to personally commend Enderson in her commitment to her role she played at school as well as to my wife before I destroy her as well as compliment her efforts in knowing every possible detail of everyone. On the very rare occasion that anyone knew anything before me it would be her." Edric cut off, snorting at the thought before rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Through Ophelia she could easily find herself having access to her work files and find a psychologist to cooperate; Eld. Not to mention anything of  _my_ personal belongings that she could easily fuck with while having free access to my house, belongings that would be very useful."

"Sounds like a lot of assumptions," Astoria said, still doubtful, pursing her lips. "And I don't remember-"

"You don't remember a lot of things," Daphne snapped irritably. "I don't suppose  _you_ have any better ideas?"

"Leave her. She'd argue the color of the sky if she didn't observe it first," Edric said dismissively.

Well, Draco certainly couldn't disagree there.

"Well, I do see the possibility," Nott said. "The toss aways theory anyway, not too familiar with this Enderson family enough to make many observations about them, but the rejects would have no qualms murdering us  _or_ mudbloods."

"Amazing. Wonder how many ' _toss aways_ ' your father is responsible for. Curious just how many of them are waiting to get their hands on you and take turns ripping you apart to send the pieces to your parents," Pucey muttered to Daphne, his tone rigid as he closed his eyes.

"Pucey," Draco said coolly. "You're not helping the situation by furthering panic."

Pucey said nothing in reply as he kept his eyes closed and Daphne's eyes fell to the floor at his words, turning her face slightly away from her husband.

"We won't let anything like that happen," Edric told his sister, looking between both girls, concern and pain replacing the anger on his face for the moment. "You  _will_ survive this. I would die to make sure of it."

"Greengrass is long overdue to finally receive what has been coming to him," Blaise finally interjected kindly, his malicious expression not matching his tone of voice. "Can't say I don't believe he doesn't deserve it. Thought you said not to speak our thoughts out loud?"

"Mmm. I sincerely hope Violet is aware of my promises regarding her fate," Edric said softly, his eyes scanning the walls before the ceiling.

"Or Violet has nothing to do with this and you look like a fool," Astoria said quietly under her breath, adjusting herself again before stiffening along with her brother, looking towards the edge of the room.

"Keep all of your witty comments to a minimum as well as your tempers," Edric murmured quickly, his voice now hushed as he watched the spot. "Try to remember that we are at their mercy for the time being, and we can hand whatever they give us back to them when they are at ours."

"I will  _not_ grovel," Astoria ground out, glaring in his direction.

"That isn't what I said, Astoria," he nearly hissed, though there was a hint of desperation mixed with his tone in his worry for her. "I'm telling you not to be an  _idiot_. Do not allow pride to suppress your sense."

Two well dressed, younger men stepped into view, one several steps closer to them than the other as he grinned at them, the man unrecognizable to Draco. He struggled to make out the second who was waiting behind somewhat in the shadows, but couldn't see him well enough to decide whether or not he knew him.

"Enjoying your stay?" He inquired cheerfully, glancing at all of them. "Everyone comfortable?" He paused as he waited for a response, only receiving resentful and sneering looks from them before he tsked, stepping closer and squatting next to Astoria. "What about you, lovely? I know that bitch wasn't too kind in chaining you up."

Draco was unable to move or look away as he watched the man tap Astoria's cuff with a jagged knife, tilting his head at her thoughtfully as she looked up at him unflinchingly, her expression blank as she didn't say anything in return.

Draco's furious protests were halted before they were voiced when the man's eyes narrowed slightly, his cheerful expression still remaining and he lifted the knife to Astoria's cheek, tilting it so the point of it was pressing against her skin just enough to create a dent but not pierce it.

"I'm afraid it seems your wife was never taught the 'speak when spoken to' rule, Malfoy. Better correct her before I correct her for you."

Draco's pride burned as fury coursed through him, knowing he was in no position to be refusing the man's direction and neither was Astoria. He was left with no choice, cornered.

Again.

"Answer him, Astoria," Draco told her quietly, his tone towards her gentle in his desperate need for her to actually listen the  _first_  time he asked her to do something.

"I'm comfortable enough," Astoria said, her response monotone as her eyes never left the man's. "Thank you for your concern."

"That's a girl," he complimented, tapping her cheek with the knife before standing straight, relieving just the smallest amount of tension in Draco before he felt himself shaking in anger as his throat constricted, watching as the man placed his shoe on Astoria's back, stepping on her so she was forced to collapse from her raised position on her elbows, though she had seemed to put up a fair amount of fight in resisting him seeing as he nearly had to stomp on her to get her down.

"You're chained the way you are for a reason, you little slut." He stopped, his grin stretching across his face once more and he slowly took his foot off of her spine, looking down at her. "But since you insist on not keeping your nose in the ground where it belongs, why don't you and your sister provide some entertainment, yes?"

Draco's blood ran cold as he came to a conclusion on what the man was applying, grinding his teeth to the point he was sure he may crush them as he fought himself on snarling out his disgusted objections to the man, Edric straightening stiffly in the corner of his vision. In his years spent with dark wizards who tormented their prisoners for sport he knew nothing positive ever came from voicing objections. In fact, protests were desired in order to torture further as punishment. He thought to look to Pucey to make sure he was keeping himself in check, but he couldn't move his distressed eyes from his small wife now pushing herself from the floor, straightening her elbows and Draco could see a small amount of blood slip from the sides of one of her cuffs when her skin broke at the amount of friction that had been too much for her soft skin.

Astoria blinked slowly at him, tilting her head to the side as the man did with her, his gold toned eyes cruel and threatening in response. "I haven't the faintest idea of what you mean by that," she told him and Draco cringed, halfway closing his eyes as if he were waiting for the blow to his face himself, afraid he was about to watch his wife get struck by their captor.

Instead the man only frowned at her, his eyebrows pulling together as he kneeled beside her once more before he pushed his knife against the fullest part of her lower lip, cutting into it and letting the blood drip to the ground before he spoke. "Do you really wish to act coy right now, little girl? I'm being much kinder than some of the older men would be. There are some men up there who are into fucking the youngest women they can find, children even, and as you're the youngest here.. Well. It's easy to tell which female would be fought over first," he told her in a concerned tone, his knife still against her lip as he pushed it forward again, blood dripping quickly to the floor now. He watched her expectantly until she cried out in alarm and pain, yanking her face away and slipping down to her elbows so she could cover her mouth with her hands as a tremor of pain went through her body.

"Cute. Can't imagine how you'd handle the poison with more than a prick, sweetling. I must say your indignant little act was adorable, but I would hope that now you have learned to drop it. Now, you should be thankful we allowed you contact with your sister. Very merciful of us, don't you think so? Show your thanks by doing as your told. Get used to providing entertainment. Being a show-whore will suit your place nicely once you've been knocked down a few pegs.. Or quite a bit more than a few. Should be easy for you, just pretend as though she's your husband after you've climbed on top of her." He stood up, towering over her as his face became more set, commanding. "Get on with it, and make it convincing. If I have to speak again before you are complying I will have your brother come over and show what is to be done to both of you, which I hope I don't have to do, as it would be much less enjoyable for me to watch  _that_ level of incest."

Draco swallowed hard at the bile rising threateningly in his throat, feeling himself pale at the strong waves of nausea he was feeling, beyond sickened at the scene he was being subjected to with the woman he loved and his sister-in-law.

Sickened, but not shocked whatsoever. That was what he had been fearing. That was why he fought getting attached to Astoria. All the girls could do was comply, and he hoped they would comply. Not only could he not bear Astoria to get very hurt, but their child could not bear it either. He watched Astoria bring herself back up, the strength she had before much more muted as the man grabbed Daphne by her hair and dragged her against the ground to position her in a way that allowed their chains the space they needed to have adequate access to each other. He kicked Daphne over from her stomach to her back, dropping her head abruptly to the point it smacked against the ground. Draco winced at the snarling sound from Pucey and silently begged him to keep his mouth shut when Daphne yelped quite similarly to a dog being kicked when her skull made audible contact with the stone of the ground, rocking slightly to the side as she held her head, pieces of her hair catching in the links of her chains.

Astoria calmly pushed her sister flat on her black, gently pulling her hair from where it had caught as unnoticeably as she could manage while she crawled over her, carefully manipulating her arms and their bindings to go along with the position, her wrist dripping scarlet similarly to her lip now.

Draco's eyes flicked up towards Pucey who was staring at the scene, his body language defeated and tremor went through him, his face painted in anguish, making him nearly unrecognizable to his usual appearance. Draco looked back towards the two girls reluctantly, unsure of how much he could stand to watch, but also couldn't stand to leave them alone under the eyes of the heinous man. His wife's face was more composed than all four of them, and he could feel the small sense of pride for her under his suffering at her stubbornness to not show her weakness to those much below her as they were undeserving of any display of her vulnerability. She was determined to give the man as little satisfaction as she possibly could, and for that she was stronger than most.

Stronger than him, his brilliant little witch.

His breath was caught in his throat once more as she adjusted her posture to straddle her sister, her  _sibling_ , more suggestively, her back curving as she leaned over her. The screaming truth of how incorrect and immoral this incestuous act the girls were being forced to perform was deafening, and Draco suddenly recalled several different streams of comments from growing up made by boys and men his age about how  _appealing_ watching two sisters fucking around with each other would be. To experience it in person as it was forced as well as personally knowing the women involved, knowing of their close relationship made the perspective completely different, and he was disgusted at himself for the fact he would have been perfectly fine gaining entertainment from such a situation in the past.

Astoria took her sister's hands from the front of her head and Draco noticed how she squeezed them gently, rubbing her thumbs in comfort against Daphne's fingers as she moved her arms back and out of her way, licking the blood from her lip to avoid it dropping onto the woman beneath her. He couldn't look at the man, afraid he would lose his tight and strained hold on his tongue and begin furiously shouting obscenities at him, attempting to throw curses at him wandlessly which would not match up to the man's advantage of having a wand as well as not being bound on the ground, his hands not behind his back like Draco's were.

Draco knew the purpose of most of this was to humiliate him and put shame to his family name by degrading his wife to a lowly whore's status by pushing her into the ground under his boot, physically harming her right in front of his face, but it wasn't his pride or the pride of the Malfoy name that he was focusing on. It was only her, and the fact he had failed her so horridly that she was in this terrible position. He knew how she was hurting, could  _feel_ it through their magical ties, and all he could do was sit there and hurt for her in her pain and fear. His eyes twitched in their desire to close when she gingerly took Daphne's face in her hands, dipping her head down to kiss her fully on the mouth, her lips slightly parted.

_Make it convincing._

Make what convincing exactly? He was directing the both of them to convince him that they any sort of desire to lay on top of each other while both wounded, dirty, cold, and bound while touching each other for their captor in front of several men including their own brother? That was what he was expecting them to convince him of?

"Don't want to watch, Greengrass?" The man asked innocently and Draco's attention was drawn to the man being questioned who was averting his gaze in horror, his face tormented and his body language portraying his extreme discomfort. "Perfectly fine. Suppose you should save your passion for when you're forced to torture your wife to death. That will make a pretty headline won't it? Even the  _disowned_ said to  _love_ mudbloods aren't to be trusted, we'll make sure of that by the time we are done with you."

Draco didn't see Edric's reaction as he quickly looked back to the girls, Daphne shakily pulling her hands to rest in Astoria's hair, doing a much less  _convincing_ job than Astoria was. He couldn't feel much from his wife at the moment, and she seemed to have shut herself off, only focusing on doing what was needed to survive the situation by utilizing her eery skill of disconnecting herself from her body and its actions.

The small areas that were bleeding on the girls were being spread over each other in their movements, only causing the scene to seem more sinister and disturbing as their blonde hair became more and more colored with red. A dark, slightly victorious chuckle came the man when Astoria's mouth brushed up and reconnected to its mark a few times, effectively smearing the blood from the cut made in her lip between their mouths. Draco's eyes dropped to the ground beneath the two girls, noticing the dark puddle of blood that only caught his attention when it had spread enough to catch a bit of light from the lantern, moving his eyes around wildly to gauge the amount of blood coming from Daphne's head injury, jerking slightly when the entrance of their prison erupted in sound as someone roughly banged at the door.

The man ordered the girls to pause, looking towards the other man who Draco had forgotten about till now as the man was keeping his distance and not awarding them his attention, seemingly not into the same sadistic games as his partner.

"Watch them. I'll see what the fuck they want now. Though if I have to deal with Enderson's cunt mouth again I'm going to snap."

Ah, there it was. Enderson.

The other man barely nodded, not looking at all interested in 'watching them', and as soon as the door slammed Astoria immediately dropped her composure after quickly noting the other man's disinterest and reached behind Daphne's head to find the wound, gently working her hands underneath her scalp that was resting against the wet stone, whispering her sad apologies when her sister protested in pained moans. The bastard must have  _thrown_  her head down as opposed to dropping it considering the amount of damage that appeared to have been inflicted.

"Daphne, sweetheart, are you alright? Head injuries always bleed a horrible amount, but are you  _alright_?" Pucey asked her, his voice a bit frantic as his eyes traveled back and forth from the blood to Daphne's face as she whimpered and tried to turn her body to curl up on her side, Astoria's position on top of her preventing her from doing so. Astoria held her hands still against the back of her head, appearing unsure of how to help before she kissed her sister's forehead sympathetically.

"Astoria, make sure she doesn't become unresponsive. I doubt any understanding will be awarded to her should she fall unconscious," Edric said quietly in a strained, mournful tone that slightly broke when Daphne didn't answer Pucey, watching both of the girls in distressed and frustrated worry, glancing at the other man to confirm he was still not concerning himself with them. "I don't believe she can afford much more injury.."

"Very light pressure, Astoria. Don't push on the injury just in case it is more serious than I suspect, but I'm sure it's just a laceration. If there is a chance her skull is fractured you need to be careful," Draco told her gently, speaking to her calmly so she would remain calm as well before looking again towards the man 'watching' them, debating on if it would be wise for him to attempt to direct her in an attempt at a healing spell wandlessly. For one injury it wouldn't be too difficult, though he in particular was talented with healing so perhaps it  _was_ too difficult for others. He wasn't sure how Astoria was with healing, and if she was caught performing magic by their captors they were likely to lash out and punish her for it, though they had no reason to feel threatened seeing as the lot of them would not be able to get very far even if they succeeded in a bit of decent wandless magic, their punishments only purely for sport.

"What then? You don't like to watch siblings snog each other unwillingly on the filthy ground while broken and bleeding?" Nott asked the man mockingly, his own anger in his eyes in response to the situation clear and unmistakable before he gave Draco a directing look, turning back to eye the man who was now finally awarding one of them his attention, narrowing his eyes at him as he scanned him up and down. "The both of you must be a  _hit_ with women seeing as you're so desperate to see just the smallest amount of a woman displaying sexual behavior, no?"

Draco raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise that Nott was actually attempting to work  _with_ him instead of against him for the sake of Daphne. Draco didn't know how much help his offensive mouth would be, but Daphne's head was still bleeding and if they didn't want her to pass out they would have to accept whatever small wrath Nott would cost them.

"Well, women of your own family of course. As that's the kind of shit you're into apparently. Tell me, are  _all_ of the new and  _improved_ Death Eaters inbred? Perhaps that was the secret. No wonder we failed as Death Eaters," Nott went on as Draco carefully fed Astoria as much quiet direction as he could from the distance away from her he was without being noticed.

"I may not have any interest in wasting my attentions on you for amusement, but don't believe that I won't cut you open as well," the man said coldly, stepping towards them, drawing his wand. "Perhaps not with the same theatrics as with a poisoned knife, but I'm sure it will serve its purpose all the same."

"Not sure, Theo. Perhaps he never got any from his own family and he can't bear to watch it or the jealousy would consume him," Blaise drawled, his tone bored and uninvested.

Ah, about time he began acting as Draco's best mate again. He had missed him.

"Probably knew he couldn't control his hard-on and was too humiliated to allow us to see how small his cock is."

Draco grimaced as sounds of torture filled the room as the cruciatus curse was thrown at Nott, glancing over to find him keeling over in pain, their captor fully distracted in his agitation with the man who had been mocking him. He expected Astoria to be thrown off, but instead she jumped on the opportunity to repeat the incantation clearly and properly, too focused to be emotionally touched by what was happening to her former friend and love interest beside her. The noisy sounds of pain cut off into a quiet panting and Astoria nodded slowly to indicate her success, though she kept her hands in place as if she were still trying to stop the bleeding with pressure alone in a show for the man.

Eventually Astoria pulled her hands from under Daphne's head, rubbing her cheek with her thumb worriedly as she peered down at her and Daphne opened her eyes too meet her sister's dizzily before angling her neck to look at her husband and Draco saw Edric exhale in his relief, his eyes closing as his shoulders fell with his release of the breath he had been holding.

"M'okay," she mumbled out to Pucey, nodding slightly before resting her head back down. "Lightheaded."

"Well," Astoria replied, pushing herself up slightly and grimacing at either the pain from her wrists or the sticky mess she had just stuck her hands into before lifting her hand in a point to show off how it was now coated in blood. "I can't imagine why."

"Are you really okay, Daphne?" Adrian asked, his voice weak in its unbearable need to do anything to help his wife, still throwing Draco off with how much raw emotion he was presenting that Draco didn't know Pucey was capable of holding for a woman.

"Mhm," she replied, looking back at him again before looking at Astoria. "Would be better if this overweight bint got off me."

"No. There's blood on the ground that I don't want to sit in," she told her firmly, her tone not quite matching the unfazed words of her response. "And it's cold. Besides, I weigh practically nothing. Don't be ridiculous."

"Astoria, please be still," Draco breathed, closing his eyes as more blood ran from from her wrists, feeling worse at the fact the girls were attempting to play off what they had just been forced to do and what had been inflicted upon them to keep their men from suffering more worry.

"Enough," the man snapped impatiently, shaking his head up at the ceiling as he reluctantly acknowledged them again after the small, unpleasant exchange with Nott and Blaise. "Stop talking. All of you. I could hurt the girls further if you'd like."

Draco's jaw tensed at his words, his eyes opening to look at him hatefully, his heart rate speeding up again at his threat and he moved his eyes back to watch his wife silently as she lowered herself back down slowly to rest more comfortably against Daphne, laying her cheek on her chest.

She had become blurred as his vision unfocused as he struggled to keep himself still and in control while they waited for what came next for them, carefully trying to think again on how to get the two of them out and what spells he was capable of doing confidently without his wand. He could not worry about the others. His wife was his priority and the rest would have to figure it out on their own, he would not risk losing an opportunity to save his family by concerning himself with anyone else's fate.

Astoria suddenly jerked, startled by something on the ground before crying out in pain when her ankle roughly yanked against it's cuff, cutting into the skin of her ankle in its tightness. She cried out again immediately when she followed her natural reaction to curl in towards her ankle and disturbed the chain to her wrist, her cry cutting off into a helpless whimper.

"What is it now?" Their quiet captor demanded, caught off guard by the sudden noise that broke the silence.

"I don't believe there is any reason for her skin to be torn open when she is not attempting to escape," Edric said slowly, his tone odd and calm, almost persuasive as he watched the man intensely. "Do you?"

Was he attempting to risk using a form of Legilimency on him? In the vulnerable position that they were in?

"I would think it would be wise to  _not_ punish your prisoners for obeying, otherwise they may find no reason to obey any longer, don't you agree?" He went on, keeping a steady hold on the man's gaze as he looked back at him for a moment before breaking the eye contact, his expression falling back into its previous as he looked over at Astoria.

"As I've heard they are remarrying off the better picks, so yes I suppose Stockholm Syndrome  _would_ be the better route," the man said in reply, looking at Draco with a slight smugness in his dull expression before lifting his wand lazily towards Astoria.

Draco froze in anticipation of the magic sent towards his wife, watching as the man flicked his wand and moved his eyes away again, dropping his arm before the spell could barely reach her. Astoria's cuffs shifted once to a more appropriate level of tightness before they shifted once more so quickly that he almost missed the fact that they shifted twice, the magic intervened by another to heighten the spell and open the cuffs even wider, providing enough space for Astoria to slip out of all of them completely. Their magic may not have been cleared to have an effect on the locks to their chains, but interrupting another's spell was another matter.

He couldn't keep his reaction neutral as he looked around in alarm, noticing Edric examine her bindings without shock, a look of satisfaction and relief on his face.

Astoria carefully tucked her wrists slightly and shifted her body in a way that hid how much her cuffs had been loosened, favoring her wrists in relieved pain and shifting her ankle to hide it from their captor slightly, and Draco could fully see the damage inflicted by the unnecessary maliciousness of whichever captor that had chained her to the floor.

Fuck, he needed to be near her, needed to heal her. He couldn't handle seeing her perfect and undeserving skin marred in such a way.

He almost wished her brother hadn't released her like he did. It gave her no choice but to take the opportunity to escape in time before the other bastard came back or they were moved. If she were caught that way she would be tortured severely for it, likely separated from the rest of them as well, separated from  _him_.

Absolutely not.

"Thank you, Marius," Astoria said, her voice small and innocent in her thanks, not so surprisingly knowing the man's name.

"Don't start," he replied dismissively.

"Are your sisters here?" She pressed on, watching him closely, her expression close to that of the one she used when she was trying to get what she wanted out of Draco, an expression and voice he never wished to hear her use towards another man, but he knew jealousy was not appropriate for their circumstances.

Was she attempting to give him a heart attack? The more she drew the man's intention onto her the more likely he was to spot the fact that she was free.

"I know minding your business is hard for you, but I'd advise it."

Astoria deflated slightly, though Draco could tell it wasn't genuine, and looked down at her sister's chest quietly for a few moments.

"When is your brother coming back? You said they were  _remarrying_ us. So you won't be killing us or framing us?"

_Shut up_ , Astoria. For fuck's sake.

"Well they can't very well  _waste_ highly valuable pure-blood women can they? It is still intended to keep the family lines pure," he drawled out. "And as their access to the best had been taken from them; they  _stole_ their access back. And here you are."

He would soon cut his own eyes out before he allowed any man to take Astoria from him, just the idea of another man's name following Astoria's made his insides burn and the idea of her sharing another man's bed made his head spin. Not his witch, his perfect and delicate witch.

She was a Malfoy and she would die a Malfoy.

Aside from that, if these outcasts truly cared for the lasting of the pure-blood lines they would not eliminate some of the oldest and most well preserved names, which is what would happen were they to strip the men of their women and murder them.

"Well," she said, looking back to him as her voice grew even smaller while an odd edge was added to it. "I certainly wouldn't wish to end up with your brother, and it seems you two must have  _some_ level of authority in all of this as well as an older line so I would assume you two would be given women from 'the best'.. I also wouldn't like to end up with a stranger.."

Draco couldn't help the icy possessiveness that cut through his body as well as the way he was hurt by her words that held such implications, not to mention her tone of voice that was too heartbreakingly vulnerable to be shared with anyone who wasn't her husband. He kept his face from faltering at her words, knowing they held no meaning, knowing she was attempting to gain more favoring from him for their benefit.

But  _if_ they held meaning?

She was a surviver after all, and if she saw no way out of this, at least no way out of this with her husband remaining by her side, of course she would try and aim for the most ideal alternate ending for herself.

The alternate ending without him.

His doubts were quickly shut down when he felt her strong sweeping feelings of uneasiness and discomfort, causing him to feel guilty and ashamed for assuming that of her when she was being the bold one in trying to get them out of there when it was his job to do so, she  _was_  a survivor and she was doing what she could to help them survive. She was raised with traditional values, and she devoted herself to being a good wife, not to mention the fact that she was  _pregnant_ and wouldn't give up the father of her child with such little reluctance or without second thought.

"You say  _they_ as though you are not a part of them," she went on before the man could respond after recognizing the way his cold demeanor dropped slightly at her words, his guard towards her faltering and encouraging her to manipulate him with full force. "Are you not?"

Either the man's ego was in desperate need of a good stroke, or Astoria was just talented at making  _everyone_  bend to her will.

"I am."

"I think that you don't want to be," she said confidently, the persuasive edge to her tone thick now, similar to that of her brother's, and her voice seemed to almost hollow out. "You don't want to be, right?"

It was more of a commanding statement rather than a question, and Marius was returning her gaze now, looking slightly confused, confirming Draco's worries that she was using more than just her soft-spoken words on him.

"And weren't you close with the Ableworths? The Cranstons? More of your groups victims, no? You didn't want to do that to them. You didn't want to betray your  _real_ allies. Your half-brother doesn't understand the proper pure-blood way, just as it seems none of them do. You are heir, you could work to bring your family name back to where it was without destroying the pure-blood community's image as a whole and killing half of the oldest families. Your younger brother will only dig a deeper grave for your name with his actions, and what will become of your sisters in this mess? You don't want to be a part of this chaotic  _revenge_ that does nothing but wreck your real people and allies. You don't want this."

Astoria shifted slowly when he took a step back, his eyes locked onto hers as any expression of authority completely fell from his face and was replaced with a dazed look and she slipped out of her cuffs very slowly and quietly as she began to push herself up.

"They won't win, not ultimately. Which means  _you_ won't win, not when you remain on their side. They will throw the community into wreckage as they intend, the whole system of things thrown off temporarily, but in the end they will not achieve what they are hoping. They won't replace us, and they will never be able to pluck off all of us, and then it would have been worth nothing. You're on the wrong side. You do not return to good graces by turning to those who are in even worse status than you are for direction."

She stood carefully, cautiously, and Draco nearly threw up at the sight of her presenting herself for slaughter, the man currently under her little mind tricks or not. The  _moment_ he broke through the haze she would pay for them dearly.

And still he would only be able to watch.

"And when the rest of the community figures out what is going on, who is doing this, they will fight back, and your sisters will likely die in result of the repercussions from the community. If they don't they still will suffer from the fact that they will have to be married off to very low and cruel elderly men if they have any shot at marrying a man of pure blood. And then you will be a failure. A failure to your name, a failure to your family, a failure to your  _sisters_ ," she said, her voice dropping in temperature as she slowly stepped towards him as he made no move to stop her or reach for his wand.

"A failure because you allowed this to happen. You, the eldest son, allowed your family to be dragged into a petty mess of vengeance due to your bitterness towards your family receiving consequences for not following the rules properly. No, my apologies, let me correct myself." Astoria stopped in front of him, her face now covered in something cruel and cold and Draco held back his choked and fearful protest as she was now within arm's length of the man, standing before him bloody and weak on top of being a small, wandless girl as the room watched in stunned silence, just as defenseless as she was.

"You  _are_ a failure," she told him clearly, harshly, cocking her head to the side a bit when he winced back slightly, still staring back intently at her, neither of them flinching at the loud banging on the door to the cell, shouts requesting if it were safe to return ignored. "And you don't deserve to be heir any longer, don't deserve anything from our world. You are a blood traitor in the worst sense of the word; preying on your own blood, purely magical blood. If you destroy the roots of magic then you don't  _deserve_ magic." She held out her hand, watching him coldly for several seconds before he finally moved, the rest of his face covered in deep shame while his eyes were frantic with alarm as he handed her his wand and she quickly stepped back once her fingers were curled around the wand, having dropped the intense focus from her face.

She seemed to struggle with pain for a moment as she cringed slightly, her eyebrows coming together before she composed herself and held up the wand warningly when he also began to compose himself after stumbling away from her when she dropped her hold on him. He was watching her resentfully but tiredly as well, as though he had accepted his loss.

"Tell him to come in," she told him, ignoring the quick and hissing objections from all of them as they were able to speak without punishment. "And that you have everything under control."

Draco watched miserably as Marius watched her for a moment before complying, Draco's heart sinking lower once more as Astoria did not look away from Marius, didn't prepare herself from the sick and unpredictable man entering the room, proving to him again that things could always get worse.

He had to rid himself his habit of underestimating his wife.

The man hadn't even stepped into visibility before Astoria quickly moved to viciously throw her arm in the direction of the entrance with the wand, the shadows that she threw her curse towards lighting up brightly in green as it struck him.

Astoria, innocent appearing Astoria, had just murdered a man. Quickly and without hesitation, as if it were so simple to her to take another's life in an instance.

"Please fucking tell me he's dead," Blaise said loudly, breaking the shocked silence at the young girl so suddenly murdering a man in front of them. "And please tell me you're going to get bitch boy over here to  _let me the fuck go_."

"He's going to go and fetch our wands for us while I let you go," she murmured, watching Marius closely. "And then he may have his wand back in exchange."

"Are you mental?! You can't let him out of here!" Nott snapped at her in disbelief as Draco and Adrian came at her with their own vicious commands for her to not allow anything she had said.

She ignored them, holding her hand out for the keys to their restraints. "He won't cause us any problems or else I will snap his wand in two, whether he brings people back down to help him or not. If we are worth a broken wand then he is truly pathetic."

"Astoria obviously has more of an idea of what she is doing than all of you," Edric told them all, interrupting more protests. "Perhaps you should stop belittling her by insulting her choices." Despite Edric's confident words as he defended his sister, his face held a cautious concern for her as she waited for Marius to nod, his face hard with contempt as he left to comply after handing her the keys, stepping over his dead brother without stopping to look at him. "Tori, you need to sit down please," her brother told her, his voice dropping into a softer tone. "You held onto him for too long."

Astoria slowly and finally moved to release them, ignoring the angry criticisms in the disbelief at her allowing the man to leave despite Edric's words of defense, her face still carrying that distant and cold look as if her mind wasn't present with her actions. Draco took the wand she was holding out to him once she had walked over to him and released him. He watched her distant eyes cautiously before setting the wand down and wrapping his arms around her legs so she would collapse forward onto him, drawing her close to his chest. He impatiently pressed her into him, having a hard time not crushing her as he was desperate to feel every bit of her safe and alive against him, placing several kisses against the side of her head in relief as she buried her face in the side of his neck with a whimper of pain, shuddering with quiet weeping as she frantically looped her arms around his neck, holding him so firmly against her that he was surprised by her strength. He closed his eyes, savoring the sounds of her breathing and her quiet sobbing as well against his flesh, rubbing her back and appreciating how his hand felt running along the feminine curve of her spine, noting how cold she was and how the tip of her small nose felt frozen against his throat as she began kissing it.

"I'm sorry, Astoria." His voice broke slightly as he brushed his lips over the hair that was falling out from her undo to cover her ear while he spoke softly to her. "I'm so sorry I've let this happen to you."

She shook her head fiercely against his neck, hitching herself even higher in his lap with her legs, now straddling his stomach more than his waist, bewildering him once more at how the innocent and childlike girl was the same woman that had just murdered a man with impressive, dark skill and zero hesitation as if she had killed many times before. He glanced up for a moment to see the others slowly gathering themselves together, walking around the cell to check all of the corners. Adrian quickly crawled over to Daphne to scoop her gently into his arms , lifting her head up carefully to examine the back of it as he carefully moved her blood caked hair aside.

"I felt you get so jealous," she murmured sadly into his now wet skin. "I would  _never_  allow myself to be another's wife,  _never_ want-"

He shushed her gently kissing the side of her head again, feeling ashamed at his envious reaction towards her trickery to help them all survive.

"Don't apologize for anything. I can't handle it right now, not in my shame. If I lose you-" he cut off, swallowing thickly as his fingers curled into the fabric of her clothes at the small of her back. "I can't lose you. I  _won't_  lose you, Astoria. I love you."

He felt her still in his arms for a few moments before pulling back to look up at him, her puffy and reddened eyes colored with surprise and curiosity as her expression shifted into another strong emotion. His eyes zeroed in on her injured lip, frowning as she opened her mouth to speak as he ran his thumb over her lip, shaking his head.

"Don't say anything. Let me see your wrists," he ordered her, distracted from his confession of feelings by his recollections of all that had been done to her while he sat and watched. She didn't move for a few seconds, following his direction to not speak, before she moved forward to kiss him lightly as he felt the strong waves of affection from her and she touched her forehead against his for a moment before she loosened her arms, gravity bringing her back down properly in his lap as she showed him her bloodied wrists.

"I wish I hadn't killed him so kindly," she said simply before her eyebrows gathered together tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut, breathing her next words before clutching her forehead. "My head feels as though it's being torn apart."

Draco sighed and gently took her hands in his to pull them down to look at her damaged skin better, loathing the pain she was in and the fact that her head was hurting her because of what she had to do to in order to get them released from their chains, what she had to do due to what he hadn't done. He picked up the wand he had set beside him, readying her wrist to be healed.

"I would rather you use your own," she replied weakly, almost panting as her eyes remained closed as she handled the pains of her head. "I don't.. I want your wand to heal me. It would just feel more correct."

"You're hurt now," he told her. "And we will see if I ever get my wand. I would like to trust your judgement, but I can't believe you fucking did that, and I'm trying quite hard to remain calm while we  _wait_ and see if  _Marius_ follows your direction after you just murdered his apparent  _brother_."

"Half-brother," she corrected quietly, her voice still giving away how much she was hurting, and Draco refrained from spending too much time on learning about the two men. "He will come back. He doesn't want to be here. If he did I wouldn't have been able to have control over him to that extent. I'm not as talented as my father, and it's not the same as the Imperius curse."

"Someone needs to be ready at the door with the wand when our  _friend_ returns," Blaise snapped loudly towards them, approaching them. "Give it to me. I would rather not be chained back up due to the fact you two are too distracted with your blubbering to each other."

"And why do  _you_ think yourself the most capable of protecting us, Blaise?" Nott drawled. "Don't recall seeing you duel very much. You are best at avoiding."

"I won't give it to you," Astoria told him. "If we have to escape quickly you would only help yourself and leave us defenseless, and I don't want you to snap his wand when he returns with ours in revenge. I have to stick to my word."

"And why the fuck would we have to escape so quickly, princess? Oh right, because  _you_ let-"

"Stop speaking to my wife like that," Draco told Blaise, narrowing his eyes. "She is the reason we have the ability to escape."

"What is it, Greengrass? The mudblood entertainment festivities start?" Draco turned when he heard Nott speaking dully to Astoria's brother, catching the way his incredibly pained and distraught face glazed over with disgusted fury. "Perhaps you will be lucky and they won't stretch her out too much, would hate-"

Draco heard Astoria's sharp intake of breath when Nott's offensive words were cut off by her brother's knuckles as the man punched him hard enough to knock him flat on his back, his nose unpleasantly spewing blood at the impact and Edric followed him as he fell, grabbing hold of the back of his neck with one hand as he lifted it about a foot from the ground.

"Again," he told him softly enough to where Draco could barely hear. "Talk about her again, and your skull will be split against the ground and you will never be able to open your worthless, classless mouth again. Do you understand, or would you prefer to test my threat? I'm sure nobody would mind the results should you choose to challenge me. Being separated from the pure-blood circle does not mean I have changed in what I'm morally fine with doing, and I'm certainly not above murder."

"Nott,  _please_ shut up," Daphne practically cried. "What is  _wrong_ with you? Let him go, Edric. He was tortured for me, we owe him now."

"I don't know about that," Astoria said without emotion. "I don't think he does anything for anyone else."

Edric dropped his hold on him at Daphne's direction, stepping back and away from him as he brushed the front of himself off, his eyes narrowed on Nott as he sat up after he was dropped, cursing as he spit blood out of his mouth and onto the floor, surprisingly not attempting to fight back. Perhaps it wasn't too surprising seeing as Greengrass was slightly taller and much more broad shouldered than Nott who was lankier than him. Nott was cocky and proud, but he wasn't an idiot when it came to combating with others, and he should be well aware that he'd be foolish to attempt to  _physically_ fight a man considerably larger than himself. Maybe when his wand was returned to him he would try again. Draco wasn't sure what was going on with Nott and his desire to get under everyone's skin, but he could tell that he was fully aware he was acting as a child, just as Draco could recognize he himself acting as a child when he was stubborn in something that upset him to the point of taking it too far, too prideful to stop as well as admit to himself that he was wrong.

It made him uncomfortable how Astoria was acting towards Nott, as it was only proving how hurt he must have made her in his recent treatment towards her for her to drop all warmth she had for him, not even phased by him being tortured or his life threatened. It wasn't only that she was shutting off her feelings for the sake of their marriage and to refrain from making Draco jealous, but she intentionally had been going out of her way to display her resentment towards him, as if a switch had been flipped.

She had been pushed too far, and her forgiveness had run out.

Draco's possessiveness aside, he hoped the piece of shit would get over himself and apologize to her and reassure her that his behavior was due to his own tantrum, not due to his true feelings towards her. He thoroughly loathed him, and the images of them together were forever burned into his brain as well as Astoria telling Nott that she loved him, but Draco also loved Astoria and didn't want her memories of one of her very few genuine friendships tarnished by her being under the impression that his feelings for her were never genuine based on the way he had been recently treating her like she was something he wished to dispose of.

"Fair enough," Nott grunted out, reaching behind him to shove himself off the ground.

"I disagree. I believe I haven't been fair whatsoever, fortunately for you."

* * *

"No, no," a cruel voice said and Ophelia looked upwards at the new approaching figure as she was watching the Death Eaters bind her silently, feeling the intense pressure behind her eyes as she watched them with pure loathing.

What cowardly, weak excuses for men they were, forcing them all into unconsciousness and chaining them up without facing them in a fair fight, taking their wands as well. Even with moving Ophelia into a room and out of what seemed like an attic with the rest of those she assumed were muggle-born like her, even with moving her to be in a new room  _by herself_ , there were still three man holding onto her. Pathetic.

A sense of familiarity at her surroundings nagged at her, not that she had been able to get a good look at her environment, but something told her she should know where she was. She knew where she was, but she  _couldn't_ know where she was, could she? She searched her memory in confusion, not finding anything to explain whatever was telling her she should recognize where she was being held captive.

"It doesn't need chains. I can handle the worthless thing."

It. Thing. Clever, very clever. He would have to try a bit harder than that.

She didn't move her defiant gaze from the man's predatory one as he dismissed them, the other men dropping the chains onto the floor beside her, causing her to tense slightly in anticipation for her husband's irritation at the unnecessary clanging of metal, but of course he wasn't beside her. Edric was not terribly hurt, she knew, but she also knew he was not alright either. Their bonds had been violently triggered in Edric's emotional pain and feelings of desperation, and that had come after the fact she had felt his first emotions of waking up without her, so something more had to have happened. It was her fault he was here, what the fuck was wrong with her? She knew better. She wasn't a  _child_ anymore for God's sake.

And yet she had those moments, those moments she hadn't had in quite a while, where she just felt compulsive and acted without thinking against her better judgement, her head hazed and her more sensible thoughts cut out, almost as if she were under a spell. She felt horribly guilty, forcing Edric into that situation. She didn't care anymore about Astoria's rant towards her, they were just words, and she didn't know Astoria. Her husband loved his sisters, and because of her he was left vulnerable to them after so long of hurting over them. She felt terrible for the girls as well, but Edric was her priority of care, and she couldn't help but feel a small amount of bitter resentment and protectiveness when one of the girls made a nasty comment or ignored him entirely. She understood why, but at the same time she didn't understand why. Looking at them as patients she could understand, but looking at them as Edric's wife she could only hurt and be frustrated with them.

"How does he stomach having you in his bed every night, between his washed sheets, how does he ever feel clean?" The man mused, circling her slowly as his eyes ran down her figure, bringing her out of her head where she attempted to avoid the fears of dying.

Panicking never helped any situation, at least not in her own experiences.

She didn't answer him, and suddenly her face was stinging like mad, her head snapping to the side as she was slapped full handed across her face and she lifted her own hand to the side that had been assaulted in more shock than anything, stumbling back a few steps. She had certainly never been hit by a man before, not that this man hitting her was anything surprising, but seeing as the social understanding had always been "Boys don't hit girls!" she couldn't help that her first reaction was bewilderment. She felt her face harden when he inclined his head in a reprimanding manner, clicking his tongue.

"Acting wounded already? Weak little creature, aren't you? I barely touched you, I slap my  _wife_  like that. You deserve much, much more. In fact, that's why I'm here."

The wizard was not anyone very savage looking, and he appeared to be in his fifties. He was not unkept, and his robes were of good quality. She could tell that when he was younger he was probably decently handsome. He looked as though he could be an average father, and didn't look at all like a man to dehumanize and torture a girl for sport.

"Perhaps it's because he can degrade you in the most disgusting of ways, in ways he could never feel it just to do to a real woman. Is that it, mudblood? Does it get your owner off to see you on the ground of his cellar covered in his piss where you belong? Right in your place? That's the only possible thing I could see myself doing with one of you, using you as a fuck toy after taking all of my frustrations from the day out on you and then grinding you into the filth of the dirt with my boot," he told her, his tone casual and light as if he were discussing something as tame as the weather. "Nothing feels quite as satisfying as beating the life out of the worthless garbage that has come to take all that is yours from you."

She watched him in slight wonder as well as her strong disgust, a strange sense of pity crossing her mind. It always confused her how such anger and irrational hatred came from such regular looking people, people that looked just like her, proving that they were in fact human beings spewing such vile things from their mouths. It wasn't shocking, as both the wizarding world and the muggle world had proven several times over that simple humans were capable of the most horrific and unexplainable things, but it was wonder where they managed to fit it all; that anger.

She cried out, instantly covering her face with her hands as she was knocked off of her feet at his blow, struck by the back of his hand instead of his palm, feeling the ghost of his hard and bony knuckles that had knocked into her nose and against her lip to split it against her teeth.

"I am confused as to why you believe you don't need to answer my questions."

She caught herself before her face smacked against the floorboards, staring at the dust covered wood dizzily as she recovered from the head rattling pain of the blow, watching the blood from her nose fall before she squeezed her eyes shut as the throbbing pain in several different places on her face surfaced completely. She pushed herself up, knowing full well she would probably end up back onto the ground soon enough, but she would avoid being kicked at for as long as she could manage.

"Perhaps you're right," she offered him in a monotone voice after swallowing the blood that had filled her mouth. "I was always confused myself, so I couldn't tell you why."

She braced herself to be hit again, but instead the man's eyes flashed with a cold humor before he strode forward and she immediately retreated backwards, glancing behind her to veer away from the wall she was about to hit only to have him lunge toward her and grab her arm, yanking her back and slamming her against the wall.

"Well, at least you were intelligent enough to  _think_ about not being cornered. Normally I would be up for an entertaining chase, but I don't have the patience for it at the moment I'm afraid," he told her, inclining his head to speak against the line of her jaw as he moved his mouth to talk into her ear, his hot breath blowing into it, causing her to cringe to the side in discomfort. Her shoulders stiffened when his hands began grabbing at her clothing, pulling her uniform robes apart greedily, his head bowed near the crook of her shoulder as he focused on his task and she grit her teeth hard as she forced her thoughts together. She would not start sobbing, she would not give that to him.

_"Don't cry unless you want to get their dicks up."_

She ignored her irritation that the only notes of advice she had been given over the years coming to mind were the words of Corwin Higgs of all people, focusing on her route out before her body reacted on its own accord. She couldn't fight yet, he would be ready for that, and obviously screaming would do nothing.

She jerked and choked on a panicked sob, fully yanked out of her calm and rational thinking when his hand pushed under her underwear and began savagely probing her flesh, forcing her into the earth shattering reality that what was happening to her was real and there was very little chance that she would not be raped, heinously and mercilessly. She sobbed for Edric in her mind, frantically bringing their bonds to attention as she completely dropped her attempts to try and not torture him with worry when he was unable to do anything.

_Please, please. Don't let this happen, not this, anything but this._

She forced herself to freeze instead of thrash viciously against him as her instincts screamed at her to do, feigning acceptance. She was sure she wasn't the first for him to do this to, she was sure he knew the way women would go limp and check out during rape, and she needed him to believe she wasn't fighting. She forced herself to make her face go blank as her stomach rolled threateningly, jumping in pain at the rough intrusion of his fingers into her body with intent to hurt her. When she couldn't register what mocking and smug thing he muttered at her she realized she was truly slipping into acceptance and she quickly fought it, yanking herself back into attention as he released her hands that he had been painfully holding above her head, scraping her skin against the wall in the process. She dropped them to her sides, not making any move aside from that as she trembled slightly with adrenaline in her gain of hope as he appeared to believe that she wouldn't fight, busying his hands with his own clothing. She stopped herself from attempting to run then. There was nothing she could do to hurt him well enough to get away right at that moment, and she would ruin her opportunity if she tried anything then. She also risked her opportunity of being free of his grip by waiting, but she had to take that risk. She would have to allow him to take it further.

Ophelia held her breath when he crooned at her about being such a good girl and holding still for him, attempting to ignore the salacious words he was throwing at her, suggesting how she wanted it. She swallowed hard, choking on her anticipation when his touches stopped as he paused to move his clothes aside, the adrenaline pounding in her ears as she prepared herself to be her own savior.

They happened quickly, his actions meant to lead to his goal of unwanted penetration, and she nearly panicked to the point of being immobile at her lack of time to brace herself properly, to work up her nerve, and he was yanking her underwear down to the middle of her thighs.

A strangled, disgusted and despairing sound of protest ground out in the back of her throat when she felt his penis brush her thigh as he went to knock her feet further apart and hot, furious tears filled her eyes before she maneuvered her leg around his as his feet were not firmly set on the ground and violently drove her knee into his exposed groin with as much strength as she possibly could when she had complete access to it as his legs were parted. The strength of her assault was aided by her intense burst of adrenaline and the man crumpled over her in his cries, near screams, of pain and she moved to the side, slipping out from under his weight and grabbing hands before grasping onto his shoulders and neck, shoving him towards the wall, using her grip to add more force and intentionally drive his head into it. She dropped to her knees beside him at the sound of his head hitting the wall, quickly scrambling to push her hand into the tangle of his robes to yank his wand out, throwing herself back when he reached for her in his tortured fury and she kicked his arm away as she pulled her own out of his grip.

She began throwing every curse that came to mind at him with his wand, unable to help herself in her humiliation and revulsion, her vehement emotions overcoming the more sensible option to stun him and run due to the likely case that his sounds of pain had been noticed, though there were many cries of agony echoing throughout the halls so perhaps they wouldn't be acknowledged. Her mind grabbed onto the few dark spells she knew, mostly learned from Edric in his attempts to advise her that she needed to know them, advice that she usually argued with in her claim that she would rather defend herself in better ways.

Fucking rubbish.

No, she wanted him to suffer in the worst ways she could manage, her intentions purely vindictive as she wasn't concerned with survival at the moment, her only focus on completely tearing the soulless wizard apart even though she knew she wasn't accomplishing even a fraction of what someone who had knowledge and experience in dark magic, as well as a proper sadistic imagination, could do. Not to mention that half of the curses weren't successful in her foggy memory on how to go about using them. In a blur she watched his body contort, unsure of which curses were causing the different injuries and sweepings of magic around him as she finally ceased her relentless stream of attacks when she felt his warm and sticky blood hit her face, her breathing ragged before she grit out a constricting spell on his throat, her eyes unfocusing as she held it for what felt like several minutes. She dropped her hand that fisted the wand painfully hard to her side, still staring through the now lifeless man, unable to help her creeping horror at what she had done. Rapist or not, she had murdered this man, and not cleanly either. She was dripping with his blood, dirtied with his  _pure blood_  as well as other fluids he had soiled her with, her underwear still pulled down around the tops of her legs.

Move,  _run_ for God's sake.

With another choking cry from the back of her throat Ophelia pushed herself back by her heels as she shoved herself up and onto her feet, pressing her ear to the door to listen quickly if she could hear anyone near, though her head was pounding too loudly for her action to be very productive.

She slipped out of the room on impulse after unlocking it with the wand she had stolen, sprinting down the hall as soon as she jerked her head to look down both directions of the hall to see if it were clear. She quickly realized this was not a large mansion like Malfoy Manor, and with a horrified bewilderment she looked around wildly, realization of why she had found her surroundings so familiar dawning on her while she wasn't looking ahead and she smacked into a hard body, the arms of it catching her before dragging her forcefully into the closest room and she found herself in the hold of a real, original Death Eater as opposed to a copycat.


	63. Chapter 63

Ophelia Greengrass forcibly closed her mouth over the overwhelmed cry that was escaping her lips, the aftermath of her panic as well as immense confusion swarming her senses. She heard the door to the room she was dragged into being locked, and the one arm that had a hold on her steadied her so she wouldn't fall.

She was being held at the Enderson home, the home she had visited ever since the start of her Hogwarts years.

She felt herself being slowly pushed back and she looked up in bewilderment at Joseph Nott. He pushed her away from him until his arm was fully extended, his eyes traveling regretfully down her form as a disappointed grimace settled on his face when he finally ran out of limb to push her away with once his fingers were completely straightened.

"Out of all," he broke off to inhale slowly through his nose, his eyelids drooping in his lack of amusement as he dropped his arm to his side. " _Nine_ of you. I stumble upon you. How silly of me to possibly hope for better considering how lovely my relationship with luck has been over the years."

Ophelia didn't care much for what the man was saying as she dropped herself forward to brace herself on her knees. She slowly became chillingly aware of her underwear still uncomfortably out of place. She sucked in a shaky breath, unable to breathe fully as she seemed to be gagging it down as the chill spread over her and stole the air from her lungs completely at the blunt reality she was forced to swallow. She wasn't distracted with her desperation to fight, to get away any longer. She wasn't in the blur of surrealism as she was when everything had happened so fast, too fast for her to process.

Instead she was in a silent, still room. The only sounds were the pitiful noises she was making as well as her screaming thoughts desperately denying and pleading to somehow rid herself of her violation.

She quieted as her thoughts did the same, growing numbingly cold as her body's wailing despairs slipped down into the hollowness and finality of her acceptance. Her mind seemed to draw a blank in its wonder of how to react once she became aware of the rest of her body, such as the sticky, metallic scented blood on her face that painted itself across her cheek to her chin and had streaked over her lips in its path. She recoiled backwards with a shudder when she subconsciously touched her tongue to corner of her mouth where blood had slightly pooled into the divot. She roughly rubbed her hand over her face only to gasp at the pain she found there. Her eyes had grown wide as she held her hands away from her body. She didn't know what to do with herself. She was dirty. The man's blood had soiled her, staining her with the spirit it would leave behind.

Dirty, just as they had always wanted her to believe herself to be.

Perhaps the man's death wasn't in vain to his cause after all seeing as she fit their vision on the surface now for everyone else to recognize what the pure-bloods had seen all along.

Her legs began to shake as her consciousness traveled down to assess the rest of her body. The stinging of her bloody and bruising knees was dull as she became aware of the small amount of drying substance on the skin of her upper thigh. It was a drying filth that did not match the fluid that covered the rest of her, an even more revolting fluid. There was such a small amount of it in comparison to everything else responsible for her uncleanliness.

Such a small amount, and yet it may as well have covered every inch of her with how it shattered her sanity, shattered her current weak hold on herself.

She was suddenly very aware of the discomfort between her legs. It was a dull and unfamiliar pain that held the ghost of the man's fingers. Such an invasive pain, a complete violation of her body that she could not even hope to wash off as she could the rest.

Blood pure or not it didn't matter anymore. She was truly filthy inside and out regardless of her birth.

Her vision darkened as she felt her face pale as nausea rolled through her, collapsing down onto her throbbing knees as she puked. She coughed and gagged on her vomit as she became hysterical, sobbing through her sickness. Her cries almost sounded confused as they came with her panting breath, confused with how it was possible that the blows of her misfortunes kept assaulting her harder and harder. She clutched the sides of her head as her vomiting fell into dry heaving until her stomach stopped its rejection to the nastiness that clung to her as well as crept its way inside of her. She whimpered out loudly, oddly, as if the sound had meant to come out in an angry scream but only managed to be another broken cry.

" _Listen to me_."

She jumped at the low snarl that was startlingly close to her ear. She blinked up through her tears at the blurred, dark form kneeling over her, towering over her.

"I'm only moments from slapping you out of your hysterics, and I would greatly prefer to avoid getting your mess on my hand, so  _enough_."

She immediately moved her face down to her arms so she could guard it at his threat. A whimpering plea for him not to hit her hurried passed her lips. She was unable to process anything beyond how she wanted the horrific pains to end, both physical and mental. She needed to catch her breath, she needed a second to process.

Just a few moments of mercy.

"Then pull yourself together so I can find my son and you can find your prized blood traitor  _alive_. Were you raped? Surely if you were raped your husband would know and  _you_ would know that he knows. Is he alive?"

No, no she wasn't raped. It could be worse.  _It could be worse_. She had to get it together, she couldn't curl in on herself as if she could afford the lost time.

It could  _get_ worse.

She would only be caught again. This man didn't care what happened to her. He would likely leave her there once he knew she knew nothing of his son's location, perhaps even hand her over to their captors himself. Then her husband, her husband.. she couldn't imagine him wanting her after this when  _she_ didn't want herself.

She didn't want to move, didn't want to fight, didn't want to leave the safety of the room. She would lose if she tried to win, and then it  _would_ get worse.

Her pitiful thoughts halted when the man's words replayed in her head, reminding her of the fact Edric would know of what had happened, how she had been touched especially. She was sure she would probably have been able to feel him react had she not been reacting so strongly to everything else herself.

On numb and reluctant limbs she shoved herself off of the ground, her eyes searching blindly as she reentered her own mind properly after she had tried to eject herself from it. She focused herself on her magic, pulling it forward to her attention, imagining it as if it were a thread. Ophelia had always struggled with connecting to her magic in such a way due to the fact she was not raised as a pure-blood. Pure-bloods still made use of the old ceremonies such as marriage bonds, which many modernized witches and wizards had left behind due to the fact that manipulating the core of your magic so much held many risks especially when tying them to another.  _Especially_ when it came to marriage bonds as they were quite one sided and in the man's favor.

Of course her husband was a traditional pure-blood through and through aside from his love for a muggle-born. He had never strayed much from his original beliefs despite the years he had been living more in her world while completely blocked from his own apart from his work with foreigners. Edric did respect privacy however, and when he had manipulated their magic together he was careful it was not overly invasive. She knew there were many ways to take hold of another's magic when permitted depending on the level of knowledge a person held on how to do so. Some of the ways were very disturbing, and it was even said that a person was capable of  _taking_  bits of another's magic, almost feeding on it.

It had felt very unnatural to her to begin with when he first grasped onto hers. He had been focused and steady as he held onto the thread of it more confidently than she had ever managed and it wasn't even his own magic. It wasn't a horrible feeling, but the unfamiliarity of it and the breathtaking vulnerability had thrown her off at first. She imagined it was close to the feeling of being held from behind with a blade pushed against her jugular. She wasn't sure if physical threats quite measured up to a threat towards one's essence. It was not that she didn't trust Edric,  _he_ could hold her from behind with a knife to her throat and she wouldn't flinch, but she knew how knives and throats operated. She was only acquainted with old magical practices.

Her discomfort had made her husband retract his strong advances, telling her that her relationship with her own magic was too important for him to impose his own when she didn't understand it enough to know whether or not she wanted it. It had hurt to know she was so different than the type of woman he was meant to be with, had hurt to know how much she didn't  _understand_ her own magic the way those witches did. Marriage bonds were such an incredibly intimate concept, and to Edric they were a vital part of marriage. It had warmed her that he respected her more than his strong beliefs and also sought to be unlike his father who invaded everyone thoughtlessly. She was also disappointed in herself that she didn't work harder to understand them. Her own insecurities and embarrassment had made her hesitant. He still strengthened their bonds to a point, which was why she had felt him when his emotions were at their most extreme. He could feel her much easier not because he had made their connection favor his own knowledge, but because it was so natural to him. If Ophelia wanted to use them it took her much effort, and unless he was abnormally emotional she knew she would find nothing. He had taught her how to call to him through the bonds should the need arise, and she desperately hoped she had not been successful when she had done so in her panic during her assault. Obviously he would have known what was going on. Her distress call would only have been further torture to him.

She pursed her lips, catching onto the faint pulsating of her husband's string of magic, recognizing his fury and despair before she lost the connection a moment later. She felt her eyebrows come together in worry that brought fresh tears to her eyes. She was desperate to go to him to know if he was alright, desperate for him to know  _she_  was-

She wasn't alright. She had just accepted that, had just wished to remain on the floor and give up on her will to keep fighting.

Ophelia grit her teeth, cursing herself for being weak enough to be so selfish as well as low enough to believe Edric wouldn't want her anymore after she had been violated by another man against her will.

"He's alive," she said quietly, interrupting the angry wizard who hadn't stopped seething at her despite how she hadn't been listening to him. "Edric."

The man broke off his ranting, pulling his head back away from her space and straightening. He looked down at her with cold and incredibly impatient eyes, inhaling slowly. His lip curled ever so slightly as he pulled in his breath before he rubbed his teeth together.

"If I have to shout at you for ten minutes as you simper in a fetal position every time I ask you a single question then I will spare myself the extra, needless weight you will be adding to me."

She swallowed as she furthered her efforts to compose herself in response to his words, training her eyes to the floor and nodding slowly. "Does that mean you plan on staying with me while we help each other look for them?"

He snorted loudly in disgust, a short laugh leaving his mouth at the end. She turned to him in aggravation, giving him a once over in her offense. "You're acting as though  _I_ grabbed  _you_  and shoved  _you_ into a dark room," she ground out, her voice still weak and worn from her expressions of grief as she struggled to find the wand she had stollen from the man she had murdered.

Murdered.

"My motives for rescuing you are my own concern, girl, but I will happily take the opportunity to decide against them should you continue to make it clear that you are not worth it."

"Rescuing me?" She demanded in a half hysterical laugh as she held out a trembling arm to begin clearing the blood off with the wand, struggling to steady her hand enough.

"Indeed," he told her blandly, moving forward and snatching the wrist of the arm she was attempting to clean. "Unless you believe yourself capable of leaving this room, finding your little disgrace, and escaping on your own?"

Her protests caught in her throat as she stumbled forward at the pull of her arm, fear tensing her body. He lifted his own wand and began clearing the blood for her. He was surprisingly careful about it, despite the careless way he had approached helping her. She let him take her other arm, looking away from him while she shook her head.

"I escaped that man on my own, and I don't put you above using me as a decoy or anything else that would aid your own escape."

There was another snort before the chin of her throbbing face was grabbed and guided in his desired directions. "Based on your face alone I would say you  _barely_ escaped  _one_ of them while nearly being raped in the process. You believe you could escape more? They will not pause while you pity yourself on the floor as I did."

She stared at him in surprise when a warmth spread through her face at the end of his wand after he had washed away the blood and filth. The warmth of the healing spell gratefully dulled the thought distracting pains.

"I've seen worse, but don't expect miracles. You'll likely still feel pain, but hopefully you'll be fine to function without tripping me up," he quipped, dropping her chin before snatching the front of her robes to move them out of the way.

She attempted to retract herself from his grip immediately, staring at him wildly as he gave her another impatient look with exasperation adding to his expression.

"Your knees are bleeding, you idiot girl. I can promise you your body has  _nothing_ to offer me. If you preferred a more  _tender_ approach to being healed then perhaps you shouldn't have spent my patience on doddling, not to mention the nausea you have inflicted with the vomit you sprayed the walls with."

She held both hands up stiffly, directing him to wait as she bared her skin herself. As she moved the fabric away she grimaced at how badly her knees did in fact sting when her clothing brushed against them. She glanced down at the floor where she had puked, noticing the mess was gone much to her relief. She felt disgusting enough as it was.

The stinging faded and she felt him wash the blood from her knees. Before she had time to react he had aimed his spells uncomfortably high up her legs before swiftly standing straight once more. She quickly dropped her robes before turning away from him as she remembered she needed to pull her underwear back up the rest of the way. She numbly reached under robes to fix them, feeling a deep sense of shame and humiliation. She had told him that he hadn't raped her, but she supposed he didn't believe her or at the very least assumed he had gotten close seeing as he thought it necessary to bring the spell all the way up her legs. Was it so clear she had been soiled by another man that a mere stranger could see?

"Now, I have only the faintest knowledge of the set up of this home, but I was only here once or twice as a teenager. Enderson was-"

They both went stiff, listening silently as voices were heard from down the hall. It was as if the mention of her name had summoned her.

"… mudbloods we have in our possession at the moment there is no reason for him to be toying with the one I'm actually using. I don't need him roughing her up too much before her husband gets the chance. You say they are in that room on the right? It looks like the door is open."

Ophelia's face flushed with the heat of her anger and she felt her hands tremble with fury as opposed to the sadness she would expect at the sound of Violet's voice. She struggled to keep her shaky voice hushed as she spoke to the man pressing them both into a concealed corner.

"I may know a thing or two about the house."

* * *

Daphne Pucey held her breath as she squirmed slightly over Adrian's lap in her impatience while he slowly and carefully examined the back of her head. She didn't care about being hurt. She just wanted to be held by him as close as he could manage. Her head throbbed like mad, and she couldn't stop replaying the sound of the impact it had made against the merciless ground.

At least the screaming pain had distracted her from the amoral show she was forced to participate in with her baby sister.

Men were awful,  _awful_ creatures who lacked any decent amount of shame when it came to their dicks, no matter how ashamed they ought to be.

She looked up to meet Adrian's eyes when he lowered her head back down carefully, regret shining loudly in his gaze. She was stunned at the amount of unconcealed emotion his eyes held, making the greens and deep browns that made the hazel color of them much more prominent somehow. She found herself admiring them despite everything else that needed her focus. His expression had always held at least some sort of humor or relaxed ease aside from the few times she had seen him cold and angry. She had seen him look at her before with affection and seriousness, but nothing to this extent, nothing that put her in the slightest of dazes like the one she was being drawn into then.

Well, she  _had_ just had her head split open.

Her musings were cut short when she felt her lower lip begin to quiver, tears clouding his caring face from her vision as she began breaking down. She heard him suck in a stuttering breath as he adjusted her on his lap so she could straddle him while he gathered her body against his gingerly. She cringed a bit as she moved to wrap her arms around him. He tightened his hold on her when he heard her labored pant as she stretched her torso, paining her ribs where she had been kicked.

She choked out a small cry of protest when he tried to pull back to assess her again, fisting the back of his shirt to hold him tightly in place the best she was able.

"Daphne," he started in a pained voice. "I want to see and know everywhere you're hurt."

She shook her head, ignoring how it protested at her movements and nuzzled her nose into his shoulder, inhaling the comforting and wonderful scent of him while feeling his warm skin beneath the fabric.

"Let me be for a moment," she told him, her words muffled against him. "It's nothing."

"It isn't nothing," he expressed, the broken desperation in his tone making her frown. "None of this is  _nothing_. These things aren't meant to happen to you.  _I'm_ not meant to allow these things to happen to you. We have allies for a reason, most of which are hiding out, but there are.. some that I should have taken advantage of, and I-"

"Don't," she insisted, cutting off his rambling that sounded so odd to her ears after being used to his way of nearly always making a joke of every situation. "It isn't your fault, and  _you_ should be hiding out as well. Then I happened."

"Right," he bitterly chuckled quietly to himself. "I'm a piece of shit. How could I forget? No, Daphne. I shouldn't have been hiding out. I should have been marrying your uptight arse and protecting you properly instead of making you feel at fault for giving my life something worth actually caring about."

"Something aside from your dick you mean?" She mumbled, hiding her elation at how clearly he cared about her and that she wasn't replaceable to him. She was more than just his property that he didn't want broken or stolen.

"Do you not relate directly to my dick, treacle?" He asked innocently, his more recognizable demeanor returning.

She laughed lightly, ignoring the protest in her side before pulling back and attempting to tug his head down so she could kiss him. She glared when he held it back and tugged harder.

"Sorry, you just have your sister's crusty blood on your lips," he told her while licking his thumb and wiping at her mouth. She quickly turned her face away, making a sound of disgust.

" _Thank you_ for reminding me why I never initiate intimacy with you," she huffed, wiping her mouth with her own hand.

His hands came up to cradle her face, turning it back towards him. His expression had dropped into sincerity and concern once more and he lowered his head to kiss her. Her eyes began to fill again as she closed them to kiss him back, moving her hands to rest against his chest as her emotions returned to her. Her tears came from both a happy place and a devastated place. She scooted herself forward in Adrian's lap in hopes to bring the relieved and affectionate feelings above the ones of her despair and fear. Despite his words, Adrian didn't seem to care about anything on her mouth, and his softer kisses deepened and became more desperate when she pushed herself closer to him, squeezing her thighs around his waist.

She jumped considerably in his lap at the sounds of fighting registering in her ears and she broke her mouth from his. Her heart leapt into her throat when she turned her head to see the scene between Edric and Theo. She winced, digging her fingers into Adrian's chest in response to the pain from her jerky movements, her eyes widening at her brother's threats.

"Nott,  _please_ shut up," she said loudly in alarm. "What is  _wrong_ with you? Let him go, Edric. He was tortured for me, we owe him now."

 _We_ , was it?

No, they weren't a "we" in any sense with Edric. She had to remember that.

"Be careful," Adrian told her and took the opportunity to move his hands down to the area she had been kicked.

She looked down at his hands, still not completely willing to immerse herself back into the stress that was the conflict their group was in. His hand was lightly running over her dress that was well hitched up over her waist carelessly as she straddled him. She attempted to pull it up further and above her ribs, unconcerned with the others.

They had just watched her snog her sister. It couldn't get much more humiliating for her.

He made a grunt of disapproval, stopping her hands as he adjusted himself so he was between her and the rest of them, hiding most of her from their vision.

"I will do it. Be still," he murmured, inching the dress up her lower stomach. "And then I  _suppose_ we ought to join them in their discussion of how to avoid death. You want little Pucey brats in the future, hmm?"

She pressed her lips together, scowling as she continued to allow the conversations in the room to fall off of her ears as she focused on Adrian. "I'd rather just not move and ignore them."

"Yes, well. It's not new for a woman to want to straddle me for the rest of her life, but I'm afraid life just doesn't offer that level of bliss."

He stared at her skin once he had uncovered her ribs, his eyes fogging over as he became very still and the hand that fisted her dress began to shake slightly. She peered down to examine herself with him, finding the fresh red bruising already bright and prominent over the bottom of the ribs on her side. It did look quite nasty, and she supposed he had kicked her decently hard, but she also bruised very easily. It hurt much more when she had hit her head.

"It's not that bad," she sighed. "It just looks bad. I'm pale, and I'm sure I'm still a bit malnourished."

"It hasn't even had much time to fully form yet," he told her coldly before moving his hand towards her lower hip and then her thigh where other signs of faint bruises were forming. None of the rest were nearly as bad as the one that spread across her ribs. "Clearly they took the liberty of being as careless as possible bringing you down here and chaining you up."

He was quiet for a while, running his finger lightly over the scraping on her thighs and knees due to being dragged over the ground. He silently pulled her dress back down. He looked incredibly guilty and furious with himself. She grabbed one of his hands when he didn't meet her eyes for many moments, dropping and angling her head up to force him to look at her.

"I'm okay, Adrian," she told him, searching his eyes as she squeezed his hand that she was holding in both of hers. "I would take this over being married to some ancient who would have just tossed me into a spare bedroom and only bothered with me to fuck me and have me smile for dinner guests. Not to mention how he'd smack me about if I sneezed in public or didn't laugh hard enough at his jokes. Actually, I'd probably have this bruising anyway since we both know I'd have been handed off to someone vile if I wanted a decent name considering my tarnished reputation. I would take being here with you now over not having you at all. I wouldn't.. Have anything in my life worth caring about without you either."

She gave him a firm look when she was finished, bringing his hand up to kiss it before raising her eyebrows and giving him a feigned serious look. "And let's not forget that you were named number one in 'Top of the Galleons' list of most handsome bachelors."

He pursed his lips as he looked up and passed her thoughtfully before squinting and nodding slowly. "You know, I wasn't sold on your speech till that last bit, but you're right. You are one lucky bitch."

"Mhm." She rolled her eyes but smiled sadly when he pressed his lips to her forehead after his expression replaced itself with emotional sincerity, holding them there for a moment before pulling away.

She slowly began to push herself from his lap and he carefully moved to help her up, shifting his arm around her gently so she could lean her full weight against him as she stood.

She looked down at Astoria warily, concerned for her as well as a bit uneasy. She had of course witnessed Astoria in her colder moments, seen the harshness she was capable of, but what she had done to the man had thrown her off.

The way she had performed her father's tricks the way she had, effortlessly and practiced while her voice took on that eerie, resonant sound that commanded compliance was concerning. She supposed at surface level the twisted little Legilimency game her father played seemed something like the Imperius Curse, but it wasn't as simple as that. It was not a pleasant fog that one was placed in while they were commanded about. Instead it was first an invasive act of taking a hold of the mind to bend it. The less firm the person's will the easier it was to control it. It was made easier by plucking the person's insecurities and doubts, even the most faint and deeply buried that the victim may not be aware of themselves. Once having a firm grip on their insecurities, emotions, inner desires, and everything that makes up a person's mind according to her father's words the victim would be nothing more than a puppet. Even after the influence of the magic is gone, once a mind has been invaded in such a way the advantage of the magic remains well after.

Astoria had spoken her ideas on the man's inner doubts out loud because she didn't need to get into his head to assume them. She was talented at that, was  _trained_ to be talented at that. Using Legilimency awarded the target a bit of preparation seeing as unless someone was a born Legilimens it was quite noticeable when thoughts and memories were pulled forward.

Her father had taught Daphne about directing someone through Legilimency but it had only ended in her breaking down into tears when the most foreign pain had violated her head. She had also started shaking in how disturbed she had been, pleading with him to teach her something else.

He didn't try to have her to do it again, and Daphne liked to make herself believe it was out of mercy and not out of disappointment or lack of faith that she was capable of such a difficult talent.

It wasn't only painful, but it felt wrong and unnatural to take over someone's will in such a way. By forcing her own mind into another's went beyond a controlling spell. The mind was only meant to occupy one. It was the only place that was always meant to guarantee privacy and complete ownership and he took that away. Her mother always taught her to keep ownership of her own wills and thoughts and not allow them to be bent at the words of others.

But her mother's own mind was completely owned by her husband. He didn't have to read all of her thoughts for that to be true. He knew everything it contained and how it functioned, what hurt it, what excited it. He could pull painful memories or emotions to the surface, could magnify them. He could also take them away, just as he could take away happy memories and feelings. Everything that made a person whole or broken, everything that made a person content or miserable he could take away, double, twist, break apart into pieces. Anything he willed he was able.

It was absolutely terrifying.

She knew Edric was talented at it and she knew Edric had done plenty of their father's  _dirty work_. She wasn't an idiot. She may have been excluded from most of her family's secrets but she was still  _in_ the family and lived in that pristine home. Her older brother had always had duties in the home, was always a man of the house that maintained the family name's understated power. A power never meant to attract attention, but only illicit respect. That lack of attention is what kept their family safe from suspicion. Truly she knew that the amount of blood on the hands of the members of the Greengrass line ought to be seeping from their Mansion's walls.

These truths were the reason Edric had always simply been seen as a charming, well mannered young man. Just the same as her father was seen as a charming, well mannered man. Neither of them were ostentatious or incredibly extroverted like her husband. She knew both of them were not nearly the masks they wore and knew they were unflinching when it came to dark acts.

But it was not Edric who had just seized a man's will so fiercely that he had surrendered his wand to her in front of his prisoners and left himself at her mercy.

Edric had only lightly used the mind tricks that oddly bothered Daphne above all on their captor, but it was Astoria who used them so blatantly. She was sure the man must have practically seen his pride being ripped to shreds in front of his eyes, not to mention the pride of his family name. She should be proud of Astoria. She  _was_ , but still she did not fancy seeing her baby sister use magic so unnatural, so  _line crossing_ to the point it was almost unfair, no matter who it was being used against. She was sure most would find it perplexing that she wasn't as disturbed by Astoria murdering a man but to her they were two different offenses entirely.

Daphne had been more raised by her mother, she supposed.

She felt her gaze drop to her lap while painfully remembering the memory her father had put in her head of their exchange when she was so little. The memory he had forced into her had been a happy one, which may have been bearable if its experience was the same as a Pensieve, but no. She had felt  _him_ through it. His thoughts, his mind, his love, his offense at her mother fearing he would treat her poorly simply for wanting his attention.

He had loved her undoubtedly and the knowledge made her loathe him more for his sins.

Wrong. She didn't loathe him. Not fully, and the fact made her loathe herself.

He was her father and she still recalled her adoration for him as a child. An adoration that didn't match Astoria's desperate will to please him, to earn his pride in her. No, she simply loved him and only wanted his love in return, only to continue to receive less and less of it over the years. To slowly take away their love piece by piece so plainly and obviously was a cruelty she doubted most parents capable of.

Did he have no shame?

If only he were to have chosen his family over his obsessive games and need to control everyone and everything. If only he had chosen to let them be a decent family. She didn't even need them to be a  _good_ family. She could settle for dysfunctional family dynamics that many of the pure-bloods had.

It was a simple request, wasn't it? To not torture every member of his family and crush his children into a million pieces? The standards were so low.

Apparently not low enough.

Yanked from her thoughts that ought to be tended to  _after_ they escaped death, Daphne quickly dug her fingers into Adrian's arm at the sound of Marius coming back into the room. Her breath was stuck in her throat as she chilled with fear, expecting more Death Eaters to be following him. Her husband halfway stepped in front of her, his body tense and his face cold towards the man approaching. Marius watched Astoria with a fierce resentment in his eyes as he offered her their wands, allowing her to pluck out her own before passing out the rest of them. She stared after Edric and dug her fingers into Adrian's flesh harder in alarm as her brother immediately left to the large door, not waiting to form any sort of plan or ask the man about the situation before he disappeared from the cell as if he were a ghost that could float through the walls.

"Blaise, get the fuck back here. Don't be an idiot. You don't have a mudblood to scamper off to."

"Yes, if you'd like to  _live_ I would suggest-"

"Oh, are you helping us now? You didn't help us when your sweet brother was tormenting us. Now that you're bored and the show is over.  _Hope_ you enjoyed it," Daphne seethed.

Foolish. It'd be wiser not to begin snapping at the only person present to know how to escape from their situation. But she couldn't help her temper, not after what had been done.

"I didn't." His voice was level as he replied but still cool.

"Can we apparate once upstairs?"

He looked back to Astoria, sizing her up while inhaling in consideration. "I'd like my wand back now."

Astoria took it from Draco and handed it to him without hesitation. There were throaty sounds of protests throughout the room, and nearly all of them had their eyes wide with disbelief and frustration.

"And what do you believe I would do, hmm? With only me against all of you?"

"Hmmm.. Oh, I don't know, perhaps have your  _comrades_ be waiting outside to come in after you've gotten your wand back? Just the first plot I can come up with," Adrian said.

"Do you believe they care enough about my wand to allow me to risk returning all of yours before coming to recapture you? Don't be ridiculous. It would be stupid to make it known to them I allowed you to get this far."

Astoria waved a hand in an almost comical way, her face screwing up impatiently. "Marius. Can we apparate once upstairs?"

" _You_  can't, no. You'd have to get off Enderson's land. It's not too large, can't hold a candle to the land Malfoy owns."

Astoria's eyebrows pulled together in a scowl for a quick moment at the way he excluded her from having ownership over the Malfoy property before she quickly dropped the look and nodded before turning to look at Draco.

"We'll go in couples. No point in trying to get around in a large group," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Astoria looked back to Marius. "Which is the quickest way out? If you would, it would be appreciated if you were to look out and make sure no one is near the door when-"

"Oh, yes. I love this 'let's see how many times we can trust the little bitch that chained us to the unsanitary ground before it backfires and he gets us killed' game. Forgot how much little children love to play games," Blaise growled with his eyes narrowed into slits as he stared at Astoria.

"I have yet to make poor judgement," she snapped back irritably, earning a loud snort from him.  
"Oh? Are you speaking of only these past hours or the past few months? Because I-"

" _Enough_ ," Draco sneered as he gave Blaise an irritable, withering look.

"I don't know, Greengrass. Are you going to keep my name out of your mouth after you escape and run to the aurors?"

"Of course." Astoria frowned and looked him up and down in slight offense. "Why would I expose you after you did what I asked?"

"That wouldn't be the Greengrass  _way_ ," Daphne drawled in an exaggerated accent, rolling her eyes.

"Will you shut up," Astoria sighed as she shot her an aggravated look, shaking her head.

"I may trust you. I don't trust the rest of your lot."

"Ha! And the rest of  _her lot_ doesn't trust you,  _the pathetic little fucker that imprisoned us_."

"We don't have time for this," Draco said coolly in response to Blaise's unproductive fuming as he stepped forward and passed Astoria. "I couldn't care even the smallest bit less whether or not you trust us. You will help us out of here or you will die." His voice was soft in his threat and Daphne had never seen him look quite so intimidating. "Either way, you will be made useful. Personally, I would choose to avoid the Imperius curse followed by death shortly after, but I'll allow you the freedom of choice."

"Hmm. This  _will_ be a rather difficult decision considering all of the appealing options you have presented me."

"Think death should accompany  _both_ options if it were up to me," Theo said, clearly still shaken from both the Cruciatus curse and assault from Edric.

Astoria clicked her tongue. "Such a shame it isn't up to you."

Daphne expected him to retort with a sneer or some sarcastic comment. Instead, Theo averted his eyes from all of them with a solemn look to his face and his shoulders moved noticeably in a sigh.

She could only hope the idiot was coming to his senses and realizing what a twat he had been to Astoria.

"Must be hard realizing that you're a fucking arsehole," Adrian sighed in false sympathy.

"So," Marius started in an almost bored tone. "should I go  _now_ to watch for a good opportunity, or am I to wait until you're all finished squabbling and being  _quiet_? Or perhaps you wish to carry on bickering once upstairs and make things a bit more exciting for yourselves."

* * *

Aldrich Greengrass firmly pulled Freya back from the edge of the ward lines as the aurors disapparated. His eyes scanned the greenery attentively as did both Puceys and Nott while they scattered themselves on the length of the property. No one had been spotted. To him that only meant that more care was required in their situation.

"Aren't you leaving, Aldrich?"

She willed him to leave, of course she did. Their son was there.

"No. I will not leave until my children are safe. You are also coming with me when I do decide to leave, as it seems you've taken great liberties since I've been away."

Freya was quiet as they walked back towards the Manor. He could feel her struggling with what she planned to say to him.

"Speak freely, Freya. I know you're itching for it."

"Speak freely with no negative repercussions to fear?" She asked, taking his upper arm. "Repercussions that  _I_ would deem negative?"

Aldrich looked down at her, his eyes catching on her familiar features that had yet to dull in beauty to him. "Clever. Yes, you may speak freely and I will not  _punish_  you."

"Daphne-"

"Is fine. I did nothing to her despite her disgusting display of blatant disrespect."

"Why did you allow Draco to keep the Pensieve?" She ground out her words and he felt her shame burning through their combined magic.

"Well, I thought I had it appropriately controlled in what it allowed others to see. I was wrong."

"You were  _wrong_?"

"Watch your tone, Freya. I directed you to speak freely. I did not direct you to show me disrespect. Clearly Daphne is only mirroring behavior."

"How could you let our children see that?  _Our children_? Of all the cruel things-"

"I didn't intend for them to see anything vile," he cut her off calmly, tensing at the way she was rushing her words out.

"Vile," she nearly laughed, swallowing hard as she did when she was attempting to hold back tears. "At least you know how vile we are."

"What's done is done. Nothing productive will come from you going on about it. Now I must sort through what is known and who it is known to. Obviously quite a few others have been floating about, and I've no idea what they've seen. Did Nott mention anything about it when you went to visit him, darling?"

Freya flinched, causing her hand to slightly squeeze around his arm.

"Foolish woman. You should know better. You think I wouldn't know should you decide to step foot in another man's home?"

"I hoped you would be too busy to notice."

"Hmm," he mused. "At least you do not try to lie further. Still, you lied to me all the same."

"You know I wouldn't be unfaithful to you, Aldrich."

He snorted loudly, a breathy scoff leaving his mouth. "Don't be absurd. Nothing in this world could distract me enough from noticing even the faintest of touches you give another man. I am confident you know that. Besides, if you had any lingering desires I would know as much as well. No, you are mine and I am yours. That is certain. It does not erase your dishonesty."  
"What did Daphne say to you?"  
"Oh? You don't wish to spend more time on the topic of you lying to your husband?"

Freya stopped walking and Aldrich pressed his lips together in irritation at the fact he also had to halt due to her hold on him. "What did Daphne say? What did you say back to her? Please. I will tell you about Joseph, but please.. Let us discuss our children first."

"She came to me yelling and crying about how I apparently make it my personal goal in life to make you all miserable, that our foolish son was more of a father than I am, that I don't love any of you, and informed me that she no longer wishes to be a part of this family."

Freya was rigid for many moments and Aldrich's eyes dropped to slits as fear began to seep off of her.

He had done  _nothing_ to Daphne for her offensive fit,  _absolutely nothing._ Yet, there his wife was. Always acting as though he enjoyed hurting his children.

 _"Please_ forgive her, Aldrich. Please. You know she is an emotional-"

"I've forgiven her," he cut her off coldly. "I did not touch her. I did not degrade her into pieces as I've heard you do plenty of times, you hypocritical woman. I did not threaten her, nor do I have any plans of punishment. It might surprise you, my love, but I don't particularly enjoy harming my daughters."

"Except for when you tortured Astoria until she lost consciousness," she said softly, adding only a hint of voice to her near whisper. "Which is what Daphne witnessed."

"And you believe I enjoyed that?" He asked her, his voice calm as he held onto his wits.

"I believe you gained sick satisfaction by making me delirious with my own daughter's suffering as punishment which was so much lower than I ever thought you capable of, and I thought you capable of very low." She attempted to keep her tone from darkening and turning harsh, but he could hear it all the same. He could hear  _her_ coming through her false personality that she loathed so much. "But no, I don't believe you enjoyed it. I  _know_ you didn't because the moment you came back to our home and into  _our_ bed where I was meant to lay and wait, silent and dutiful, I could feel your regret. Something I've never felt from you. It was only a bigger slap in the face after everything you did to all of us that night. How dare you  _regret_ damaging our children just hours after your offenses! How dare you do that to our children purely out of your loss of temper!  _Our children_ , Aldrich. We raised them together. From infants. How could you.. How could you possibly be capable of lacking such humanity? How did you do it? Listen to Astoria's screams under your hand? And then just leave her alone, unable to hear or see, where I couldn't find her. How? I knew the amount of life in her she had wouldn't last long, but I never imagined you would rip her spirit out of her so young. For what? For  _what_ , Aldrich?"

He watched her, his eyes flicking back and forth between her eyes as he searched them. His breath was uneven and he found himself fighting to control himself  _again_. Her words were not anything she hadn't thought many, many times over. She had thought much worse about him, and there was a time where he reveled in it. He had tired of it years ago but had ignored that fact in attempt to hold on to his safer mind, his more  _powerful_ mind that didn't concern himself with her approval.

"I would say," she continued, her voice falling into softness. "that I don't care what you do to me if I continue to speak my mind, despite you telling me I was allowed. I would say that there as nothing more you can take from me. I  _would_ say that. Most would believe it. But as you warned me, darling,  _it can always get worse_ , can't it? You've proven that to be true time and time again."

"Are you finished?"

She watched him, her eyes not once wavering from his. He may have broken her in a thousand different ways, but he could never break her fierceness. No man was powerful enough for that. He had only caged it, left it simmering under the surface. He reached for her, expecting the familiar flinch from her as he placed his hand on the side of her face, circling his thumb over the skin. Wariness and strong anticipation was flowing between them.

Was she really expecting him to strike her?

Cruelty was all he and her family had taught her to expect, he supposed.

"Are  _you_ finished?" She asked.

Her voice remained soft but it had slightly wavered with animosity. He blinked calmly, continuing to stroke the skin of her cheek as he hummed out a questioning sound.

"Are you finished gaining satisfaction through my pain? Getting off on it?"

His eyebrows twitched together and his mouth slightly turned down at her question. It wasn't a question he would never expect from her, but it still made him falter.

"I gain satisfaction through order, Freya. Don't act as though you don't know me when we've been married for-"

"Yes, I know that you  _believe_ it necessary to be merciless when it comes to your control no matter who it is, but I  _know_ you thrive on my pain. It's why you wanted me in the first place. It's why you insist on leaving my scars on your arms from the night you took my chance at peace. You need me and my turmoil, you need to  _feel_  it. Otherwise we would end up as breathing corpses like your parents. Too late, Aldrich. Your plan didn't work. We're almost there. We're almost them." She grit her teeth, breaking her gaze to stare at the ground next to them as she shook her head. "You and my brother, both of you use me for the same thing. I've accepted it, but  _stop_ bringing my children into it."

"I am not your brother."

"That's not what I said."

He looked at her hand that had clasped onto his wrist and faintly squeezed him as he still hadn't moved his hand from her face.

"Please, Aldrich.  _Please_ ignore your word for once. For me. I've given everything I am to you."

He tried to drop his hand, quickly stoning over his concerns for her accusations. She kept hold of it and stepped closer to him. The muscles of his jaw worked and twitched at the pleading in her eyes.

"Do not try and manipulate me, my love. It is foolish and a waste of your time."

"I'm not trying to manipulate you. I'm not idiot. You know I'm not an idiot." Her voice was desperate and weak, out of character. "Don't take one of my children from me."

"He is my child just as he is yours. They are all  _our_ children, and I am the head of our family. I choose to hold it together as I see fit."

"He is your child which is why you can't really want this. Don't regret another wrong you've committed to our children."

"Enough of this. You are well aware-"

"He never wanted to leave! You sent him away! You gave him an impossible choice! He was a boy, how could he let his  _pregnant_  lover be murdered by his own choice? You are his  _father_. He is your blood.  _You love him_."

"At his age I would have made the correct choice."

"He's not you! He isn't you because we aren't your parents, and you never  _wanted_ us to be your parents. He wasn't raised like you.  _He isn't you_ and you didn't want him to be, and yet you envy him because he isn't."

"I  _envy_ him?"

"You envy him," she repeated, still holding onto his frozen wrist as he took all of her words in. "You wish you could have escaped, you wish you loved some foolish girl, you wish you had a mother that cried for you when you were gone, you wish your daughters saw you as they saw him, you wish you had the heart that made it impossible to let an innocent girl die, you wish you weren't  _you_ because you  _hate_  yourself."

"I don't wish to love some foolish girl," he denied the only thing he was able, regretting his decision to allow her verbal honesty. He did not want to hear it. "I am content loving an intelligent one. Stop attempting to get under my skin. Stop attempting to manipulate me with my emotions. It won't work, you should know that by now."

He removed his wrist from her grasp and walked away from her. He should have stopped her from speaking. He didn't. He wasn't able to be angry with her seeing as he had agreed he wouldn't. He should not have agreed to that. He needed to get away from her, he needed to get his thoughts organized. This was precisely why he didn't allow emotional confrontations and he had dealt with two, one following right behind the other.

He let out a frustrated breath through his nose, confused at himself and impatient.

"You've never told me that before."

"Told you what."

Why was she following him? She knew better than to follow him, Daphne knew better than to follow him. Everything was tense, and he felt locked inside his body as anxiety began to overwhelm him.

"That you love me."

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, dismissive. "You know I do. I don't say it because you are intelligent enough to know. Our magic is so closely knit that there is hardly anything you don't know. You know, but you choose to ignore it."

A sound from the back of his throat was made when he was pulled back by his arm. His eyes flashed before they darkened and he whirled around, grabbing both of her wrists and yanking her against his chest. "The territories you are crossing into are dangerous," he told her coldly. "Proceed carefully."

"Please," she asked again, closing her eyes. "I will get on my knees if you'd like."

"No," he said, his tone instantly falling dull. "If I had interest in that you'd already be on them. Accept that you aren't going to get what you want, Freya."

"I never get what I want."

"I understand that dramatics are a part of your infamous character, my lovely wife, but you may spare me of them."

He was bewildered when she still didn't react with radiating hatred. Where was her anger? Instead he felt her tremble in his grasp as all other emotion fell from her eyes, leaving only terror behind as the finality of what was to come processed in her head. He set his jaw at the lurch in his stomach, infuriated at the woman for turning into this weeping girl and attempting to draw weakness out of him. She was giving up, throwing her pride away completely to him.

"This will break me. Truly."

Indeed. He could feel that.

"Then you will be alone."

Indeed. He would be alone.

"All of our children are married now. We have no one to take care of. We only have ourselves. Can't you just allow us to end our parenting with a bit of peace?"

"There is nothing to be done right this moment with the commotion of the inept ' _aurors'_ running about," he told her, releasing her to resume towards the Manor. "We will worry about our options when the time comes."

The sounds of his steps heightened in volume as silence hung around them for a few moments. He could nearly taste her elation and disbelief in the air and he closed his eyes for a moment, holding back a sigh.

 _What_ had he said?

Our  _options_?

 _Our_ options?

"You're.. Considering it..?"

He hummed and willed her to come along, nearly yanking the feathery cord of her magic. He was absolutely finished speaking with her. She caught up to him, taking his arm once more. He expected her to say more to him considering her loud and out of character emotions for him but she was staring at the ground, fortunately for his sanity that was clearly already unravelling.

She was  _hopeful._

She was also pleased with him, genuinely. She hadn't been pleased with him in many years. She had been  _satisfied_ when he agreed to give Daphne to the Pucey family, but it was not the same. It sent a thrill through him. It pleased him that she was feeling positive towards him for once, of course it did, he did in fact love her. There was no point in lying to his own mind regarding the matter.

Then again, he supposed in truth it was disturbing she was so grateful over him hesitating to murder their son after she begged him.

Ah. There he was. At a loss for control. His mouth pulled at a wry smile and he felt the bitterness burning in his eyes. That was why he didn't allow his feelings much weight in his mind. They got in the way, they compromised him.

Fuck it all.

His churning rage for himself and how he had faltered at his wife's will died the moment they found Narcissa Malfoy standing in the center of the newly destroyed sitting room where his children had only just been. Aldrich slowly moved his eyes over the inside of the home, dread filling him and closing in around his throat. His children were gone, and clearly they had not gone willingly. Freya walked towards Narcissa, distraught and looking around wildly in her panic. She shook her head at Narcissa, at a loss as she pressed the palms of her hands to her forehead, a contrast to Narcissa who was livid and unmoving as she held her wand in a white-knuckled grasp.

"Where is my son."


End file.
